Pirates of the Caribbean: Prince of the Seven Seas
by Cap'n Kspaz
Summary: Seven years after AWE, young William Turner must team up with everyone's favorite Captain to save his mom, and keep the seas free for our swashbuckling heroes.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: The prologue takes place directly after _At World's End_, though the rest of the story will take seven years later, like the summary promised. This is my first posted fanfiction. Reviews would be great!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the movies. I do like to think I own my plotlines, though. Please, no stealing. **

* * *

_Pirates of the Caribbean: Prince of the Seven Seas_

Prologue

Elizabeth was King of the Pirates, and a Pirate King would not cry for more than three weeks alone on an island. She was not sure how she had arrived at that conclusion, but by repeating that time table enough to herself, she had begun to believe it.

Three weeks had passed, and it was time to pull herself together. Elizabeth had awoken that morning to a very sour stomach, and she took that as a sign that she needed to work her way back towards civilization and real food. Will had trusted his heart to her, and she did not think he would take it well to hear that she nearly starved to death in an effort to stay by its side. Like any true pirate, she needed to bury her treasure. She was certain Will did not expect her to carry it around all the time, as that would be dangerous for both her and her husband.

So after some careful memorization, she picked a location to hide the Chest. Two palm trees and a large rock by the spring would have to do as markers. As long as she alone knew where it was, it should be safe.

A tropical breeze kept her sweating brow cool as she labored away. After a solid couple hours of digging and refilling, Elizabeth stepped back to examine her handiwork. Her fingernails and the oar she had rechristened as a shovel were covered in grit, but the job was done. She had even managed to limit herself to three sobbing breaks.

Elizabeth was not a girl prone to tears, but the events of two weeks ago had (understandably, she felt) changed that. First, believing the love of her life to be dead, then to have him resurrected only to learn she would not see him for another ten years, and at that time, only for a day, Elizabeth had enough emotional turmoil to fill the rum locker of the _Pearl_. With tears threatening to come again, Elizabeth knew the time to get off this uncharted island was not going to come a moment too soon.

Two days into her stay on Isla who-knows-what, Elizabeth had come to the realization that she had only a rowboat to get back to civilization in. A few moments later, she had realized that civilization for her was likely to be rather limited, as she was a wanted woman in the eyes of the Royal Navy. She had a predicament on her hands. Sea-turtles seemed a bit out of the question.

Luckily for Elizabeth, she had recently developed a sense of direction. As a young woman growing up in strict upper-class societies, Elizabeth never needed to know where anything was around Port Royal. Her drivers would always know where to take her. However, several months out at sea taught her the importance of having a sense of where she was in relation to other places she knew to be safe. And right now, the safest haven imaginable for a Pirate King was luckily just one island over. With decent weather conditions, she felt she could row the distance to Shipwreck Island in one day.

She rinsed the shovel-oar off in the rising tide. Burying the Chest had taken longer than she had anticipated, and it was already midday. It would be foolish to start her journey now, with the 

strong Caribbean sun beating down on the sea between the two isles. Elizabeth sighed as she realized she would need to spend yet another night on this depressing beach.

Shuffling back to her makeshift shelter, Elizabeth gritted her teeth. "No more tears, young lady," she told herself firmly, "Just one more night here. The next time you set foot on this isle, it will be for much happier reasons." _Though it won't be for another ten years_, she added internally, and a tear escaped down her sun burnt cheek.

* * *

Another wave crashed into the little boat, and Elizabeth spit seawater for the seventh time that morning. Her stomach was not pleased with her, and it seemed particularly displeased with the seawater. She kept her food down as best she could, though. "A Pirate King should retain some semblance of decency," she told herself, "And rowing up to the cove with vomit on the side of my vessel would undermine that, now wouldn't it?"

Shipwreck Island was growing closer. With any luck Tai Huang and the rest of her crew would be waiting in the waters nearby for her. She had, however, given Tai Huang responsibility for the safety of the ship and crew, which he could have taken to mean: "Run for your lives!". It would not surprise her. She knew Sao Feng had made many enemies of the Western pirates. True, a few weeks ago the pirates of Shipwreck Cove were united, but Elizabeth was pretty sure that alliance was broken just as soon as the East India Trading Company fleet turned heel. Whether Tai Huang would master his fears and wait for his captain, or high-tail it out of the New World while he had the chance, remained to be seen. Elizabeth crossed her fingers and hoped for the best, as she rowed her way through the clear Caribbean waters. It was basically all she could do.

* * *

It was into dusk when she finally managed to round the edge of the island. Elizabeth felt her arms were about to fall off, but every time she had tried to stop for a break, she ended up having to work even harder than before to get back on course after the currents had their way with her. Despite being more used to physical labor than she ever had been in her early life, her hands were still blistered from the efforts. Elizabeth had uttered her fair share of curses along the trip, taking an embarrassed pride in her new-found colorful language. Being a pirate had some fun perks.

The cove was a little more difficult to navigate. Elizabeth was glad she had let Tai Huang maneuver about its choppy waters when she arrived at the town for the first time. The little rowboat was being tossed pretty solidly, but its shallow keel kept it from hitting any of the rocks.

"HER MAJESTY APPROACHES!"

Elizabeth raised her head in surprise. From the town walls (which were mostly just a bunch of railings from deceased ships), a crowd was gathering. People were cheering. Her upbringing berated her for not being able to name one face in the crowd of her subjects, but mostly she just felt relieved. _Other people_, she thought to herself. _Finally. Three weeks was a long time. _

She docked her miniature vessel and found a red carpet rolled out into the main hall. From its doorway strolled Captain Teague himself, his swagger confirming suspicions Elizabeth had had about his relation to a certain other pirate.

"Well, well," his slow, raspy voice echoed off the wooden planks like the thud of a fish on a dock. "If it isn't our King, back from battle." He bowed with surprising grace. "Welcome home, your Majesty."

Elizabeth allowed herself to be helped out of the dinghy. "Thank you, good Captain. I trust things are returning to normal?"

Teague smiled. Or rather, Elizabeth hoped it was a smile. It was difficult to tell with the wrinkled captain. "Normal is as normal does, and pirates do as pirates does. We do what we can to get by; but by us, things have a way of getting."

Elizabeth smiled politely in return, though her brain was trying to twist and turn his phrases into any semblance of sense. In the few lines of communication with Teague, Elizabeth felt several questions about Jack Sparrow being answered already. She took Teague's offered arm as they walked into the main hall.

"You must be famished," said the Code Keeper, and motioned towards a feast being laid out on the table before her. "Take a seat. A few of us old pirates will dine with you tonight."

Elizabeth quickly learned that Tai Huang had indeed fled the Caribbean, but he did leave a message behind giving his captain instructions on where to find her ship and crew should she return. She pocketed the message delivered by a seedy looking pirate she did not know, and chose to make the decision of whether she would try to locate her ship at another time. Mostly all she could think about at the moment was getting a decent meal in her. She sat down at the grand table, eager to begin the supper. The roguish Code Keeper took the seat to her left. Several other pirates she failed to recognize filled the remaining chairs in no particular order. She was introduced to them one at a time, and even through her exhaustion she memorized each face and name. Growing up a governor's daughter gave her at least a few skills she doubted other pirate kings had at their ready. As supper began, it was clear that Teague was the pirate she was meant to be speaking with the most, though he, in what Elizabeth was sure was his slowest voice imaginable, ended up doing most of the speaking.

Conversation with Captain Teague delved deep into the realms of platitudes with little reason and requests for the next course with a bit too much rhyme. Elizabeth wanted to attribute much of her confusion to having spent an entire day out under the Caribbean sun with no water, but seeing as every other pirate at that table was perfectly comprehensible, she concluded reluctantly that Teague was at least slightly off his rocker.

Dessert quickly gave way to after-dinner drinks. One aging pirate named Piers seemed very keen on chatting Elizabeth up, and clearly felt that they could chat better in private. Luckily, Teague seemed to have taken her under his wing for the evening, and whisked her away before the more bawdy party began.

"Thank you, Captain," Elizabeth said in relief as she escaped Piers and his incessant personal questions. "I would like to retire early, and perhaps get a good start on matters of business in the morning. Captain Piers was getting a little too pushy for my tastes."

Teague nodded vaguely as they arrived at what were presumably her quarters. "No problem at all, your Majesty. Jackie asked for me to keep an eye on you."

"Jackie? Jack?" Elizabeth was not sure if she should feel touched or suspicious. "When did he ask you that?" Her eyes narrowed.

Teague chuckled, then began to cough. Elizabeth felt a little uncomfortable when the coughing did not let up for some time. "You are quite the pirate, your Majesty," he wheezed a moment later. "Could give that boy a run for his money, if you decided to."

Elizabeth was not sure how to respond, and found herself fiddling awkwardly with the paint on the doorframe. _Does he know? Does he know that I once killed his son? _She swallowed the thoughts back in, doing her best to keep her composure.

If Teague had noticed her guilty eye-shifting, he chose to ignore it. "Jackie has good reason for wantin' to protect you. Shipwreck Cove is no longer safe. Just because they fled, doesn't mean the trading company or the Royal fleet won't be after us again soon."

Elizabeth nodded, realizing her role as king was likely to be of great importance yet again. The dim hallway hid the tears welling up in her eyes. She did not mean to get emotional, but the exhaustion of the past several weeks was catching up to her. She wished Teague would just let this all be until the morning.

Instead, he looked squarely at her - an impressive feat for the ever-swaying pirate. "Your leadership will help keep us together. You can keep the pirates united against our enemy. Us pirates have not had a king in decades. Now, more than ever, we need one. Particularly a living one." Teague reached out and took her shoulder. "Captain Swann – "

"Turner," she said, raising her chin up high.

Teague smiled again and squinted his eyes at her in an all-too-familiar way. Elizabeth had had plenty of practice avoiding the scrutinizing gaze of Captain Sparrow, and she kept her proud posture.

"Very well, Captain Turner," he said slowly. "Are you still ready to serve as our King?"

The candlelight bounced strange shadows off the walls. The glass of wine Elizabeth had after dinner was starting to catch up with her, and she could not help but feel dizzy. The weight of what was being asked was not lost on her, but Elizabeth felt that after what she had to go through with Will, there was nothing left to be scared of doing. "Yes. Yes, I am." Her voice barely even quavered.

"Good choice," Teague said, letting go of her shoulder. "The Code would've required us to hang you if you had refused."

Elizabeth's eyes widened.

Teague continued to speak, not betraying for a moment if he had been serious or not. "You must also accept that your survival is a marker for the survival of us all. If we are threatened, we will evacuate you. Now," he held up a hand as she began to protest. "There is no use arguin'. By protectin' you, we are protectin' our way of life. It'd be best to just go along with what we suggest if such an occasion arises."

Elizabeth had had just about enough of this evening. She nodded, figuring it would be futile to try and object any further. If Teague would just let her get to sleep, she was sure she could sort this out better in the morning.

He finally seemed to cotton on. "You must be exhausted. I'll leave you to your quarters then."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you, good Captain." Elizabeth turned to go in to her room. The bed looked rather well-worn, but the promise of all the blankets piled on top was plenty of incentive for the Pirate King to bury herself in it as soon as possible.

"Just one more thing, your Majesty."

She turned back abruptly, resisting the urge to curse at the old man. "Yes, Captain?"

His face took on an odd expression, and he clearly missed her frustration. "It's a curious thing. You and your husband."

Elizabeth could think of a dozen things curious about their marriage, so she was at a loss for which Teague spoke of. She waited while he pondered in the hallway, swaying in the candlelight.

Finally, he spoke up again, voice raspy as ever. "The King of the Seven Seas, and the Lord of the seas beyond the farthest gate." He paused again, as if searching for the proper concluding platitude to send her to bed with. "Just…a curious thing." He ended lamely several moments later, then left her to the night.

* * *

Real food did nothing to settle Elizabeth's sour stomach, and after two more weeks of waking up ill, she accepted the idea that had been dancing around her mind for some time: she was with child. Will's child. Even though he was not physically in her life, he did not leave her to face life alone. Never had she felt more grateful to her husband as she did leaning over the railing each morning to spill her breakfast.

Keeping a pregnancy secret only works for so long. Teague and the other pirates of the Cove soon began to have suspicions, and the rounder her belly got, the more affirmed those were. She carried on with her Kingly duties as if nothing had changed, only pausing to quash ugly rumors doubting the paternity of the child.

Nobody expected the attack to come when it did. Long boat after long boat sailed into the cove one relatively quiet evening, a dozen British soldiers in each. There were only so many that could be taken out with canons. The rest had to be fought off with sword and gun. The pirate 

ships that escaped the cove barely made it out into the open waters before being fired on by the Royal Fleet.

The Pirate King was surrounded by a guard, but Elizabeth knew her defenses would not last for long. Shipwreck Cove had been breached, despite all assurances of it being a fortress "nigh impregnable". For the first time during a battle since the attack on her father's mansion years ago, her thoughts were not on fighting. They were on fleeing. She would not put Will's unborn child in danger.

Lucky for her, Captain Teague had the same thoughts. "Save the King!" and "Save the heir!" were the cries echoing through the town. She was rushed off to the fastest vessel in the Cove. Teague would captain it, and two other ships would flank them, drawing the Navy's fire.

With canon fire overhead, Elizabeth prayed to God, to Calypso, and to her husband for safe passage away from Shipwreck Cove. Through the powder, the smoke, the flames and the waves, her crew amazingly pulled her to safety. She did not know how many pirates lost their lives that day, but she did learn that more than her vessel alone escaped.

The remainder of her pregnancy involved an elaborate chase through the Seven Seas, the Royal Navy never far from her tail. After several months, just before she felt she was due to give birth, Teague pulled into an unexpected port.

Elizabeth was rushed onto shore as the ship pulled away in a hurry, left with only his words as instructions:

"Find distant relatives. Hide away. We will find you again. Take care of the child."

Elizabeth was back in England.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for the encouraging comments!  
**

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Chapter 1

_Seven Years Later…_

A brown ball sailed past little Will Turner's head. He ducked down an alleyway, valiantly trying to outrun his pursuers.

"Oi! Willy Nilly! What's the hurry?" a boy shouted out, as his companions cheered and laughed. A flock of crows took flight, momentarily blocking the view of the alley.

Will kept on running, prepared to dodge another handball at a moment's notice despite the slight advantage he had gained from the birds. An internal narration urged him forward: _Dashing young William __Turner, __pursued by the vicious pirate Thomas the Weird and his gang of ruffians, makes yet another brilliant escape through the streets of his hometown. Armed with only the knowledge of the best secret passages, William once again outsma__rts his attackers, turning the b__lunde__ring p__lunderers on their heads – _

"Oof!" Will fell to the ground as a particularly well aimed ball hit him smack between the shoulder blades.

There was another chorus of laughter, and Will turned over slowly to see a circle of boys ranging from ages six to twelve leaning over him. _Though cornered, William the Great was not afraid. He had been in worse s__ituation__s before. __If he could just buy a moment of time…_

"So, little Willy thinks he can sneak past _our _doors on the way to market, without so much of a how'd'ya'do?" asked Tommy Bright, the leader of the local band of bad eggs. No matter how Will had tried to stay on his good side, or just plain stay away from him, it never seemed to work. The older boy kicked a smattering of gravel into Will's mousy brown hair. _William the Great knew that his mother would not be pleased with his state of hygiene, but she would be dealt with later. There were more pressing issues at hand._

"I-I'm sorry, Tommy," Will stammered. "I was just trying to hurry on, that's all. Mum said she needed some new eggs straight away, and – "

Tommy bent over and grabbed the front of Will's shirt. "And that's your excuse, is it? Can't pay us a common courtesy because '_mummy_' would get an ickle bit upset, eh?" He pushed Will back onto the stone walkway. "C'mon, let's get out of here. This is just too easy today."

A few members of the gang kicked more gravel and dirt Will's way as they shuffled by. "See you later, Will," a boy his age said roughly. "Yeah, way later," said another.

Will's face was red with shame and anger. _William Turner knew that letting the enemy get confident was a vitally important move for any young hero. Soon, they would have to slip up, and then he would regain the upper hand. _He clenched his tiny fists and gritted his teeth. Well, as many teeth as he had at the moment. There were a couple missing, and one just half-grown in. Will was certain that getting his grown-up teeth was a mark of his coming manhood. _Just let Thomas the Weird wait and see. One day, he won't know what hit him. _

He stood up and brushed himself off. Will was used to being chased by the local kids, as they seemed to delight in the fact that he had no apparent father. That was the usual reason for mockery from the other boys, because they knew Will would always take the bait and argue back. Will Turner was fiercely proud of his father. He had never met him, but his mother promised he would get to when he got a bit older. She had explained that his father was a great hero, and had to be at sea saving people from horrible fates for most of his life. Will accepted this, and was proud to be named after such a great man. He knew his mother would keep her word. Someday, he would meet his father and get to hear all sorts of stories of adventures and heroics. Will secretly hoped that by that time he would have heroic stories to tell his father, as well.

In the meantime, he was man of the Turner house. Not forgetting his duties, Will finished shaking out his hair and then proceeded to take the back way to the market. He needed a large batch of eggs for breakfast for him, his mother, his aging aunt and uncle, and his several cousins. Hopefully, Missus Johnson would have a spare basket for him, too, as Tommy had stepped on his just moments earlier. _Lucky thing for William the Great that his attackers arrived before his basket had been filled with the treasure he sought. _Will grimaced thinking of the yoke his head could have been covered in at that moment.

Missus Johnson always liked Will, and she gave him two extra eggs plus a sturdy new basket. Will thanked the farmer's wife and took off for home the long way. His mother was sure to ask what had taken him so long, but he did not want to chance losing his eggs to the gangs of Port Gullington.

Sure enough, Will's mother was waiting for him at the roadside as he got closer to their house, hands on her hips. _The brave William Turner approaches his fate with head held high._

"William Weatherby Turner."

He winced. There are some things even a hero must learn to fear, and the use of a full name was one of them. "Hullo, Mum," he said quietly, hoping she would give him the chance to explain.

"Young man, I was worried sick about you," she continued sternly, grabbing him by the shoulder and directing him towards the house. "Where have you been? I thought I told you to get the eggs and come straight back home? And what happened to the nice basket I gave you this morning?"

Will winced again and again at each question. As they got up to the house, she finally quieted down, clearly expecting some responses. "Well, you see Mum," Will's mind raced. How to explain without making him sound incapable of being her knight in shining armor? "I was on my way to market this morning, but then this whole gang of ferocious pirates came out of _nowhere _and chased me down – "

His mother spun around and grabbed him by both shoulders this time. "William! How many times have I told you?!" Her voice dropped to a hissing whisper. "You _do not _make up stories about pirates coming to get you. Do you understand?" She shook the small boy a bit and his lip quavered. "I said _do you understand_?"

Will nodded quickly, though he was already crying. "I'm sorry, Mum, I wasn't chased by pirates. I was just chased by Tommy and his gang and got ruffed up a little." He looked down, ashamed. "Jus' wanted to make it sound less boring, is all."

His mother sighed and pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. "Oh, Will. I'm sorry those boys are bothering you again. Did they hurt you much?"

Will sniffled a bit in his mother's arms. "N-no. I'm okay. But they smashed your basket, so Missus Johnson gave me a new one."

"Well, that was nice of her, wasn't it?" Will's mother untangled him from her arms and ushered him indoors. "Now, let's get you cleaned up. I'll take the eggs to Aunt Martha."

* * *

Elizabeth sighed, watching her son chase Martha's dog around with his wooden sword. That boy needed no encouragement to play by himself. His imagination was sometimes worrisomely gigantic. Not that she believed she had been much better at his age, but coupled with the boy's hero complex, it gave her a fairly just cause for concern. _Three guesses which side of the family _that _complex __comes__ from. _She laughed a bit, though the ever-present ache of missing her husband stung more strongly when she thought of him in relation to their son.

"Will, just make sure you're washed up in time for supper!" she shouted out the door.

There might have been a response, but on the other hand, it could have just been another battle cry. The dog barked in glee as Will fell over top it and they wrestled into a pile of leaves. Those two were inseparable. Will did not seem to have many human friends, but he did not seem too worse for wear because of it. Overall her son was happy, even with that terrible gang always picking on him in town. Elizabeth was very proud of her little boy and his resilient nature. He was very smart for his age, as well.

"Lizzy, could you give me a hand with the lamb chops?" Martha called from the kitchen.

"Of course, I'll be right there!" Elizabeth rinsed her hands off at the water pump and ducked indoors to give 'Aunt' Martha some help. Martha was actually a cousin of Elizabeth's mother's that had moved south when Elizabeth was just a little girl. Her husband, Peter Hamilton, was a master printer and had set up shop in Port Gullington. They had many children together, two boys and three girls in all. Their oldest, Jonathan, was just recently named master printer for his father's practice. Peter had developed arthritis in his aging years, and was slowly handing down all his equipment and duties to his two sons who were going to take over the business for him. Elizabeth herself helped work the printing press in town four days a week to earn her keep. William was too young to help, though Peter occasionally gave him errands to run to make him feel included. His three daughters were closer in age to Elizabeth than to Will, so despite referring to them as Will's cousins, they were not fit to be playmates for the boy. Charlotte was due to be married in the spring, and the way Margaret was going, Elizabeth was sure it would not be long before a second engagement was announced.

Elizabeth had tracked down Martha a few weeks after arriving in England seven years earlier. She actually went into labor the evening she arrived at her and Peter's home. Shocked but hospitable nonetheless, Martha allowed Elizabeth some time to recover before explaining herself.

Obviously, Elizabeth did not go into full detail of what had happened. She instead told Martha of her father's murder, and indicated that the East India Trading Company was now after her to finish the job. She explained her husband's absence by saying he was a merchant on the run for staying loyal to the governor, and that they had to stay separate because he was very easy to recognize. When Martha asked what it was that made her husband stand out, Elizabeth just explained that he was missing a body part that was rather uncommon to lose, but that she had better not tell her what, or else she could accidentally give his identity away if she ever saw him. Elizabeth was pretty sure Martha suspected more was going on, but in the seven years she had stayed with them, Martha never pressed her for more information.

One winter's night a year after arriving at Martha and Peter's, a stranger with only three fingers on his left hand came to the door looking for a "royal wench". Martha had nearly turned him back out into the cold in shock, but Elizabeth had cut her off and saying she would take care of it. Will had been only a baby at the time, and Martha had shooed her young daughters into the back of the house, though she could not stop them from giggling profusely.

The man had been unfamiliar to Elizabeth, but he clearly had been given a description of her. "For yer Majesty," he had said through sun-cracked lips, then bowed and handed her a folded piece of parchment.

Elizabeth had taken a deep breath and accepted it. "Thank you, good sir. Is there anything I can offer you for your journey? Food or refreshment?"

The shabbily dressed man had declined and disappeared into the night as mysteriously as he had arrived. Martha had come back out at that point and Elizabeth assured her the man was gone and that he was just at the wrong house. She then took her letter to the nursery room and sat down by her infant son to read:

_D__ear __Honourable__ Pirate King,_

_I __trust this letter finds you and your new child well. __I wish I could be the bearer of better news for your Majesty, but I must speak plainly._

_T__imes are, as we feared, heading for the worse. __Pi__rate__s are divided again - some working for the Company__ as privateers__, and others just for themselves.__There are many matters that need a voice of leadership to draw to a close. With the threat of __authority, more betrayals may be avoided. __Your guidance could ensure our survival. _

_U__nfortunately for you, many of the Pirate Lords do not feel so well inclined to your health. They resent your authority, so you must be prepared to handle any approaching pirate with the proper level of distrust. __The Code is not keeping our sea-going __kin__ together as well as it once did, to my great disappointment. __The Code is __our__ Law__ and it must be defended_

_P__lease consider continuing to act as our King and Hope. You have become legend with pirates worldwide. __Many call you the__Swann of the Sea", used both as a prayer and as a curse. Your continued involvement gives __honourable__ pirates something to rally around._

_I__f this letter has reached you, then you have met my agent, Master __Hobbins__. He will be at the docks the thirteenth of February__ awaiting your reply. I encourage you to respond favorably. _

_R__espectfully Yours,_

_Captain J. L. Teague_

Elizabeth had known that if Teague was "encouraging" her to respond in agreement, it was probably better for her health if she complied, and quickly. So Elizabeth wrote a letter of acceptance that following morning. When Thursday the thirteenth had arrived, she took a break from the press room to hurry down to the shore. There, she had spotted the same pirate from two nights previous and wordlessly handed him her reply. He had pretended not to notice her, and walked off with the letter without once looking her in the eyes.

Many years had passed since that first meeting, and Elizabeth had worked out an agreement with the band of pirates still loyal to the Code. Every other Saturday night she would sneak out of her relatives' house in disguise, and creep down to the seedier end of town. Casually, she would enter The Blind Man's Pub (or "Blinky's" as the locals called it) and take a seat at the back left table. There, two to five pirates from varying corners of the world would join her, updating her on the state of business and receiving advice or sometimes even direct orders on what was to be done. She was determined to be a good Pirate King as long as the title was necessary, but she always had to refuse when they begged her to come back to sea. Will was safe at Martha's house, and she did not intend on disturbing that for a moment. The Saturday night meetings were risk enough for her family.

* * *

Martha's kitchen was always a little disorderly, but the woman made great food so no one ever saw fit to point that out to her. Elizabeth pounded the lamb for her while Martha bustled about collecting spices from half a dozen places in the room. "So, Lizzy, you've seem a bit down lately," the older woman noticed shrewdly. "Didn't want to say anything in front of the children, but seeing as they are all out for the afternoon with their father, did you want to talk about it at all?"

Elizabeth pulled her best puzzled look. "Down? Really? Now dear Martha, what would I have to be down about?"

Martha tilted her pudgy face down and looked crookedly at the young woman. "Nothing? Really now, dear."

Elizabeth continued to express confusion, so Martha let it drop. She was always so good about letting things drop.

In fact, Martha's suspicions were well founded. Elizabeth was terribly upset. One of her regular Blinky's visitors had 'bumped' into her on the street several days ago, and amidst his rambling apologies, he whispered to her: "Teague's been murdered. The boys will be at Blinky's at the normal time t'talk. Watch yer back real good 'tween now and then."

By all rights she should not have felt shocked, but she did. Teague had transitioned into a strange but comforting father figure for her, and his loss was a huge blow to her attempts at an emotionally stable life. Elizabeth always expected this day would come, as pirates with any respect left in them were becoming fewer and farther in between than Elizabeth ever had dreamed they could be. However, with having no one to talk about this loss with, she could do nothing all week but wait for Saturday night to arrive. Finally, it was here.

Dinner was a quiet affair on Elizabeth's end, though the Hamilton girls were chatting a mile a minute as per usual. Will seemed too embarrassed from his encounter earlier that day to say much either, and both the Turner's excused themselves early.

"Mum?" Will asked as they entered his little bedroom.

"Yes, dear, what is it?"

"Could…could you tell me about Father again?" the boy asked in a rush, fidgeting with the tie on his shirt.

Elizabeth smiled. "Of course." She sat him down on his bed and folded her hands on her lap. Taking a measured breath, she began. "The day we met, your father was adrift at sea on a makeshift raft. Pirates had attacked the ship he was traveling on…"

The story continued on as truthfully as Elizabeth felt she could tell it. Some parts were glossed over, many were left out entirely, but the ending she felt was entirely true. "…And then he had to leave, because he has a job so important that even staying with his family would be impossible."

Will's eyes glistened, as they always did at this part of the story.

"Your father has to save many people, every day. He sails the Seven Seas and even beyond to help whoever he can. When he finds somebody to help, he gives them a ride to someplace nice and safe. And when you meet him, I'm sure he will tell you all about his adventures."

Will nodded fervently. "Father is a hero, isn't he Mum?"

Elizabeth smiled proudly. "Of the finest caliber, William."

Young Will Turner snuggled into his mother's arms. "When I grow up," he paused to stifle a yawn, "I'm gonna be a hero, too. Just like Father!"

She ruffled his mousy brown hair. "I wouldn't doubt that for a second. Now," she picked him up and tucked him under his blankets. "Even heroes need their rest. So you get a good night's sleep and you can work on saving the world tomorrow."

For once, Will did not argue, and burrowed his head into his pillow smiling. "Good night, Mum. I love you."

Elizabeth bent down and kissed her son's forehead. "I love you too, dear. Now get some sleep."

She turned the oil lamp lower, and tiptoed out of the room. Story-telling was a nightly ritual for Missus Turner and her young son, though the story of his father was one of the few that had any truth in them. She usually made up daring and outlandish adventures to tell him, as she was too wary to base any stories off the true ones she had experienced. _One day,_ she told herself. _One day, he'll get the whole truth. But he is far too young right now. _

Elizabeth sat in her room, waiting for the rest of the household to turn in for the night. She then put on her cloak and strapped on her sword underneath. Pulling up the hood and mussing her hair, she crept out into the night through her side window.

She paused at the gate of the house, like she always did, and whispered "Be safe" toward Will's tiny room. Elizabeth had two duties in life, and her most fervent hope was that she balanced them fairly. Without stalling in thought for too long that brisk autumn night, the Pirate King turned headed down the lane, soon out of sight.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Posting this earlier than I intended! Please review if you get the chance, so I know what is working and what is not.**

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Chapter 2

William Turner clung to Rusty, the family dog, and rocked back and forth quietly in the corner. Uncle Peter was sitting on an evening chair with his hands pressed together and his head down. Aunt Martha was calmly making more tea, but Will could tell she was much more upset than she let on. The fireplace sent flickering shadows from its depth that the boy traced with his brown eyes, allowing himself to drift off in thought yet again that night.

His mother had been missing all day. The family woke for church early that Sunday morning to find her room empty, with the window ajar letting in cold winter breezes. Will had spent most of the day seized in a type of panic. _Mum is always here. Always. Where would she go? Where would she go without me?_

Jonathan and George, the Hamilton's sons, were still out on the town, searching for her. Their daughters had each individually tried to calm Will down throughout the day, but it was only Rusty that could make him stop crying. Being a loyal friend, Rusty seemed to sense his place was by the boy's side that night, and did not intend to move.

"More tea?" Martha asked a bit weakly, shuffling over to the fire. Peter jerked his head a bit toward his cup but otherwise did not move.

Will barely heard her. Only thoughts of failure ran through his small head. _William the Great is supposed to be a hero. Why does he let his mother get lost? Why does he sit and cower with the dog? Come on, Will, you knew this was always a possibility. Didn't you always imagine yourself prepared and ready to hop to her rescue?_

_Imagined. _He sighed into Rusty's fur. That was the key word, indeed. Will's mother had told him since a very young age that there may come a time he finds himself without her. A time where she might disappear. When he had gotten a bit older, she had confided that if she had disappeared, there was a chance she was in danger. Will had taken this to heart, and was determined to be her knight riding to the rescue. But it was always a bit of a dream to the boy. A plotline to use in his fanciful stories. Never did he realize what losing her would actually feel like.

He nestled himself further into the dog's side. He glanced over at his aunt, who stood silently with a tray of tea. _Should I tell her? _he thought, uncertain. _Should I tell her what Mum had me memorize in case she disappeared?_He bit his lower lip and continued to watch his heavy-set aunt. Will had always trusted Aunt Martha. She was a kind woman, and treated Will very well. She slipped him sweets when his mother was not looking, let him play with her dog, and allowed him the use of one of her pots as a helmet. _But Mum said not to tell anyone. _

Her voice echoed through William's mind. "Will, if there is ever a time you find yourself alone and without me around, if for instance I don't come home some day, I need you to do something for me. I am going to be honest with you, William. Our family has many enemies, and we must be careful at all times. If something happens to me, that means staying with your Aunt Martha is no longer safe for you."

Will had been wide-eyed at that time, imagining tales of adventures and heroism. He had scoffed a bit when she told him he could not bring Rusty with him when he left his aunt's, but being misty-eyed at the prospect of achieving hero-status kept him from complaining too much.

"Now Will," she had continued. "You mustn't tell anyone this. Can I have your word that this is a secret between you and me only?"

Will had nodded anxiously, then upon seeing his mother's serious expression, he had swallowed his eagerness and said, "Yes, Mum. I won't tell no one. I promise."

She had smiled. Will remembered that clearly, because he loved his mother's smile. Then she made him memorize a plan of action if she ever was to mysteriously vanish. "First, you must go down to the docks. Find a man with only three fingers on his left hand. His name is Master Hobbins. Tell him that your mother sent you to him and that you need to find Captain Jack Sparrow as soon as possible. Do whatever Master Hobbins says. He will get you to where you will be safe. Once you meet up with Captain Sparrow, you must tell the captain this: 'My name is William Turner, and my mother has gone missing. She wants you to keep me safe until she comes back.' Do you understand all that, Will?"

He had nodded. Will remembered the instructions very clearly, because his mother sprang questions oh him at random when others were not in earshot. "Who is the captain you are supposed to look for?" "How many fingers does the man at the docks have? What is his name?" "What is Captain Sparrow supposed to do until I return?"

Once he had asked her if he was going to see his father with Captain Sparrow. His mother got a pained look in her eyes, and only said, "I sincerely hope not." Will had shut his mouth tight to refrain from asking what she meant by that, because his mother had started to well up with tears.

Rusty stood up and stretched his furry copper paws out on the hardwood floor, then spun around twice and lied down by his young companion once again. It was getting late, and Will knew he was usually in bed by this time. Martha's hands were beginning to shake under the weight of the tray. Finally, she slammed it down on one of the ornamental end tables.

"Will, I think you and I should talk for a while in your room, dear," she said with forced calm.

Will snapped his head up at the clatter of the tray and was slightly bewildered as to what his aunt wanted with him. But without the energy to disagree, he stood up and accompanied her down the back hallway. His uncle and cousins watched in confusion, but Will's eyes only noticed his loyal dog getting up to follow.

His bedroom seemed colder somehow, though the weather had not changed. His oil lamp gave off a dimmer light than usual, and his blankets felt thinner to the touch as Martha sat down with him on his bed. They both sat in silence for a few minutes, and Will continued to debate whether he should tell his aunt about needing to find Captain Sparrow. Just as he was about to pipe up, she started to speak.

"Will, your mother left me with some instructions for if she ever," Martha paused to clear her throat. "Disappeared. So if you do not mind, I would like to share those with you now."

Will nodded slowly, not missing his aunt's hesitation in the middle of that first sentence. It made him more nervous for some reason, but he was curious as to what she had to say, so he forced himself to look up at her face.

Martha tucked a loose strand of graying hair behind her ear. "Your mother would like me to take you into town and drop you off on the corner of Main Street and Docking Lane. I am to pack you a knapsack, and then," her eyes narrowed and Will could tell she did not like these instructions very much at all, "Leave you there." She looked at him with great concern. "She said you would know what to do from that point in on, but Will…if you do not feel comfortable acting on your own, please tell me. Your mother means well, but I am not sure she meant for this to come about while you are still so young."

Will was confused as to what to do. He had never felt so scared, and his mind screamed at him to tell his aunt everything and let her hold him until it was all over. _Maybe she can come with me to find Captain Sparrow. Maybe I wouldn't have to go alone. _

However, his heart beat strongly for his mother. She had made him promise, the biggest promise he could make. Will was sure she would have told him if it was okay to tell Aunt Martha, but she had only said to tell no one.

"Will, please," his aunt practically begged him. "If there is anything I can do to help you in this task your mother gave you, let me know. This is just folly to send a seven year-old boy off on his own."

Despite his inner monologue of heroism, Will had to concede she was right. A seven year-old had no place traveling by himself. _But remember, you won't be alone, _that inner voice told him, _You'll be with Master Hobbins. And then with Captain Sparrow. They are probably very responsible grown-ups and will take good care of you until Mum comes back. __Didn't Mum hint tha__t Captain Sparrow would help you to__ get her back, too, if that were the case? He must be a great hero, just like Father. _

Finally, Will reached a conclusion. "Aunt Martha?"

His aunt turned to him, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

He swallowed, but stuck by his decision. "I can't tell you what Mum told me. She made me promise not to tell." His aunt looked more upset than ever. Will felt terrible. "I can tell you one thing, though. I…I won't be alone. I am going to be meeting somebody. Someone who will take care of me."

Aunt Martha pursed her lips and nodded. "Of course," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Yes, your mother would have made sure you would be safe. I understand." She wiped her eyes and straightened her shoulders. "Well, since you are so good on promises, would you promise me a couple things?"

Will agreed, sitting up straighter as well.

His aunt continued. "Promise me that you will wait one more day with me. If your mother is not back by Tuesday morning, we will go into town together. And also, once you get to a safe place, would you be so good as to write me a letter? Just to let me know you are alright?"

Though Will was anxious to get going to find this heroic Captain Sparrow, he felt both requests were reasonable, so he nodded again. His aunt threw her arms around him and sobbed loudly and suddenly. Will was taken aback, but let her get her emotions out. He was not used to grown-ups being so, well, childish; however his mother had raised a good and caring son, so he sat and waited until she calmed down.

"You are a good boy, William Turner," Aunt Martha said, letting go of the child. "And you'll be alright. You'll be alright."

* * *

Tuesday morning, and the townspeople of Port Gullington bustled about as usual. Nobody noticed the frazzled Martha Hamilton hurrying down Main Street with little William Turner trailing behind carrying an exceptionally large bag for a boy his size. The cobblestones always had a way of tripping Will up, and today was no exception. He stumbled past the blacksmith's shop, past the cobbler, past the bakery and the carpenter's place. His aunt, however, was not to be slowed down in the slightest. "I told your uncle," she huffed as her breath froze into crystals in the cold air, "That I was taking you to some of your father's relatives, to keep you safe. So that way, it is only me and you that know what is really going on. Do you think your mother would approve of that little lie?"

Will had no idea why she would ask a child whether his mother would give approval for something an adult did, but he just nodded in assurance.

"Good," she sighed as they reached the crooked street sign at the corner of Main and Docking. She knelt down to be on eye-level with Will. "Now, dear boy," she started sniffling again, and Will could not help but to start sniffling with her. "Y-you take good care of yourself. T-tell whomever it is that you are g-going to be staying with that he has Aunt Martha to answer to if anything should happen to you, understand?"

"Yes, I will," he promised, giving his aunt one last hug goodbye. Will pushed tears off his nose in determination while his arms were wrapped around her. He had to be strong now, especially for his aunt's sake. "I'll be just fine. And I'll come back as soon as I can. I'll bring Mum back, too."

Aunt Martha stood back up and nodded, smiling through the winter air. "Alright. You get on going, then, Will." She glanced back and forth suddenly, as if worried they were being watched. Will glanced around too, but everything seemed normal to him. She pursed her lips. "Yes, yes, it is best if you go quickly."

The boy took the hint, re-shouldered his bag, and turned to start walking toward the docks. _William the Great begins his biggest adventure yet, after comforting the dist__raught and concerned woman he has__ to leave behind – _

"Will, I love you! Be careful!"

Will turned and waved at his aunt one last time. He gritted his teeth and kept marching away. _Alright, William Turner, it is time to make your mother proud. _

Moments later, however, Will doubted that "proud" would be what would go through anyone's head who was watching him get chased yet again by Tommy Bright and his hooligans. They had come from nowhere, and Will swore that they must just spend all day waiting for him to appear in town.

Will sped down to the docks as fast as his feet could carry him. Shouts of mockery came at him from all sides as he was quickly surrounded by a larger gang than usual. His pack weighed him down, and he could not outrun the boys any further. Will collapsed onto one of the piers and folded himself into the fetal position, shielding his precious knapsack underneath him.

The shouts of the boys were reminiscent of the seagull calls that usually sounded from the pier. Annoying, repetitive, and piercing. _William the Great had reac__hed his first obstacle. He wou__l__d__ dispatch of these ruffians with ease, but it was probably best to not draw attention to his amazing combat talents just yet. _

"Let's throw him in the water!" one boy shouted, pumping his fist into the air.

"YEAH!" was the chorus of replies.

Will gulped and wished that William the Great would pull out those fantastic defense moves as soon as possible. He felt hands all over him, prying him off the rickety boards. "Hey!" he shouted, kicking and smacking, keeping one hand wrapped tightly around his knapsack. "Lemme go!"

Will felt himself being raised up high and saw the freezing water lapping at the dock. "Toss him in! Toss him in!" Tommy and the boys began to chant. He kicked harder but it was to no avail. Preparing himself for an icy blast, he felt himself begin to be hurled forward.

Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the crisp morning air.

The cackling of the gang stopped, and Will was suspended in mid-toss. He tried to crane his neck around to see what was going on, but he could not reach far enough.

"You boys need to find a new playmate, or yer all gonna hafta answer to me," a rough voice said, and Will heard the sound of a pistol being cocked.

A split second later, Will was lowered down to the ground and the boys scurried off, uttering panicked apologies. He sat on the deck dumbfounded, and scooted around slowly, terrified to see what gun-wielding maniac was waiting behind him.

The man stood, legs widespread, in boots that had seen better days. He had a long coat that was torn up in several flaps, each fluttering in the winter breeze. A long blonde beard flowed down to his chest, tied up in elaborate braids, and he wore a green bandana around his dark forehead. He was grinning a smile full of gold teeth, and a gun was held at his side. Will was just thinking that this was the most frightening man he had ever laid eyes on, when he raised his left hand to scratch his head – with only three fingers.

Will's mouth fell open, staring at the appendage. It did not look like a hand any more, without its fourth and fifth digits. He knew it was impolite, but his young brain could not process incredulity and courtesy at the same time. _This is Master Hobbins? This man is who Mum has trusted me with? _

"Whatsamatter, kid?" the man asked, smirking and offering his damaged hand to help the boy up. "Looks like you've seen a ghost or somefin."

Will shook his head to pull himself back to reality, but he could just not bring himself to believe that this fearsome looking man was the person he was supposed to trust.

The man rolled his yellowed eyes. "Alright, c'mon, s'not like I don't know who ye are. Might as well come out wif it."

Will looked up at him, wide-eyed and still seated on the dock.

"Yer the Turner boy, correct?" The man grinned as Will finally nodded. "I've seen ye around town wif yer mum. Real skinny wench, ain't that right?"

Will's eyes narrowed defensively. "My mum is pretty! And I don't like anybody who calls her names." He glowered at the man, anger replacing fear.

He chuckled throatily and backed away, hands up in mock defeat. "Yessir! I meant no offense, mind ye. Jus' makin' sure yer the boy I wus thinkin' ye were."

"Well," Will said, haughtily, getting to his feet. "I know who you are, too. You're Master Hobbins, though why my mother would send me to such a rascally looking man, I do not know." He crossed his arms, suspiciously.

The expression on the man's face changed abruptly. "Yer mum sent ye to me?" he asked, voice quavering and eyes growing in concern.

Will nodded. "Yes, she said you were to take me to Captain Jack Sparrow. And quickly. She's gone missing, you see."

Master Hobbins was not faking the worry on his face, Will could tell. He began to soften towards the ugly stranger a little.

"Very well," the man said, motioning Will to follow him down the pier back to the rest of the docks. "Come wif me, and act natural-like. Pretend yer me servant boy, carrying that sack fer me, got it?"

Will nodded. He knew he was very good at playing pretend, and was glad to learn that a hero in the real world needed to know that skill, too. He followed the seedy-looking man back into town, and was pleased to watch Tommy's gang scatter at one glance in his direction. Resisting the childish urge to stick his tongue out at his enemies, Will jogged a bit to keep up with Master Hobbins. _William the Great assumed his disguise as "servant" with great ease and skill. Not a soul suspected that he and the__ odd__ stranger were on a__n errand__ greater than a trip to market. William __Turner__ was ready to handle anything, and with Master Hobbins at his side, he was sure that nothing could stop __them. __The mission to save his mother had begun._


	4. Chapter 3

**Wow, I'm actually updating! **

**Despite the long hiatus between this chapter and the last, I do intend on continuing this story, so don't get discouraged! School just came back and hit me real hard, but I hope to keep that more under control in the future. **

**A big thank you to my reviewers so far! You're actually the reason I pulled this back out and forced myself to write in it again, because I knew there were at least a few people who were waiting on another chapter. **

**Enjoy! **

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Chapter 3

Captain Sparrow was drunk, belligerent, and refusing to give up the helm. He recognized all this, of course, but was taking a small dose of delight in his crew's pleas to let someone else take the wheel. He, however, was not going to be pried off the helm of the _Pearl _until the rum was gone or he was passed out. Not after what it had cost to get her back.

"Mister Gibbs," Jack hiccupped, "Would you be so good as to get your fine captain another bottle? Mine seems to have gotten lost, somehow." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the deck of the _Pearl_, as if wondering if the ship had taken his rum from him herself.

Gibbs fidgeted his fingers. "Cap'n, it is gettin' awfully late. Maybe you could wait a while for your next bottle, and get some sleep, instead?"

The captain smiled and pointed one wavering hand at Gibbs. "Very clever, Mister Gibbs, very clever indeed. Sleep is almost as blissful of ignorance as rum itself, but sleep has that unfortunate consequence of having to dream, and I for one am not too keen on slipping into reverie at the present moment. So if you'll jus' let me drink my way into oblivion, I can wake up in a day or two completely delirium-free, what say you to that?"

Gibbs sighed. The ship carried onwards rather unevenly over the Caribbean waves. "To be honest, Cap'n, I'm not sure you'll ever be delirium-free."

Jack felt a little taken aback. "Why, Mister Gibbs, what a thing to say to your captain, particularly when he is such a delicate state? Fortunately for you, I am an honorable and forgiving man, so your punishment will be of a non-life-threatening nature. If you go down below deck right now and bring me up some more rum, why, I believe we can forget this whole conversation ever transpired." He grinned roguishly at his first mate, in a last ditch attempt to appeal to his better nature. Surely, Gibbs wanted his captain to be happy, did he not?

Sea-spray cascaded over the edge of the deck in the night. Gibbs glanced back at the noise for a moment, and Jack took the opportunity to snatch the man's flask from off his belt, shoving it behind his back before Gibbs turned around again.

"Alright, Cap'n, now what did y'do?" Gibbs asked, accusingly.

"Wot?" Jack replied with as much innoncence as he could muster. "I've jus' been steerin', I have. But seein' as yer bein' so quick to judge yer own captain tonight, you can consider yourself dismissed from deck." Jack began to shoo him away with his unhidden hand. "Go on then. Away wif you." He lurched forward a little at another uneven wave and grabbed the helm once again.

Always faithful, Gibbs's expression changed to one of guilt and he shuffled down the wooden stairs without any more questions or advice. Jack grinned as he watched his loyal first mate disappear below deck, then brought around Gibbs's flask and took a long swig.

The weather was clear that night, he finally had the _Black Pearl _back, and with the amount of rum Jack had in his system, by all rights he should have been in a very good mood. However, Jack Sparrow was in a foul mood. He felt outsmarted. He felt angry. But the worst of his troubles at that moment was actually due to an emotion he did not usually experience: Captain Jack Sparrow felt sad.

_"Captain, I've got some bad news __fer__ ya_

Jack remembered that sentence clearly, uttered three days earlier by Mister Gibbs as they sat in Tortuga awaiting the arrival of Barbossa and his crew in secret.

_"I've __jus__' gotten word from some of my contacts in town that…well, Jack, there's no use in __puttin__' off what needs to be said: Captain Teague's been murdered."_

Jack took another long swig from Gibbs's flask and ran his hand down his face. The deck was rocking back and forth in front of his eyes at rather a perpendicular direction to how the waves were driving it. Instead of the take-on-the-world attitude rum usually left him with, Jack felt uncertain, and the memories of the past few days did nothing to help that.

"Yer father's dead, Jack."

Jack frowned, wrinkling his forehead. "Now that sentence wasn't from a memory," he said out loud to no one in particular.

"That's because I'm not from a memory. Look down here, Jack," the voice called.

The captain glanced down towards the flask in his hands. Around it, a miniature version of himself was holding onto its straps. _Again, really?_He thought to himself, but went along with the delusion anyway.

"Well, 'ello there! Long time no see, eh?" Jack said brightly, raising the flask up to face mini-Jack at eye level.

"Alright, Jack, time to explain yerself," the tiny pirate said, pointing an accusing finger at Jack's nose.

"Explain meself?" Jack tried to convey puzzlement, but seeing as him and the tiny man on the flask were really the same person, it was a rather moot point to try and feign ignorance at what mini-Jack meant.

Mini-Jack placed his free hand on his hip. "Yes. Yer bein' a right lily-livered addlepate, you are."

Jack frowned at the tiny pirate. "Addlepate? I assure you, there is nothing addled about me. Quite the contrary, as I've finally got me ship back from that bloody mutinous Barbossa, I'm in complete control. "

"Then why all the rum, mate?" mini-Jack smirked.

After some valiant efforts, the captain quickly discovered that his rambling excuses were no match for himself, even if this rascal's brain was the size of a gnat. Jack finally frowned, picking at a splintered section of the wheel in defeat. "Dad's dead." He said, casting his eyes down to avoid looking at the smaller version of himself.

"Yes, I did mention that, if you recall," mini-Jack said somewhat heartlessly.

He swung the flask up to take a swig, ignoring the shrieks from the tiny pirate who suddenly found himself thrust through the night air. "Oh, stop being such a shiverin' codpiece," he told the miniature captain, clambering to hold on. "Now what's the meanin' of you comin' into _my _head on what was otherwise a fine evening, and startin' up all this addle-this and addle-that nonesense, eh?"

"I'll be perfectly clear, then mate," mini-Jack said, obviously miffed. He straightened his bandana and got a firmer grip on the leather strap. "Why aren't you sailin' to Isla Ocultado?"

Jack choked a bit on his last swallow of rum.

Mini-Jack grinned knowingly. "Tha's right, Jack. I know all about yer father's will. He made a deal with you, and all you could think about was yer precious _Pearl_."

"I," Jack argued a bit unsteadily, "Am merely takin' time off to honor his memory. Can't say anythin' wrong with that, now, eh?"

"Oh really?" mini-Jack said. "An' this is how you honor yer late father's memory, is it? By becomin' a rum-soaked drunken blaggard who trades his father's ship away and then has the gall to ignore his last request?"

The captain did not miss a beat. "Ah, but I'm not _ignoring_," Jack pointed out, a grin returning. "I'm _postponing._"

No response came from the man on the strap of the nearly empty flask. The waves began to lurch the _Pearl _around even more than before. Captain Sparrow tried to ignore the tunnel vision, which was not too hard to do since he was already in the dark out on the ocean. Mini-Jack scratched his matted head, as if that would help him come up with another argument. Just when Jack was sure the tiny pirate was ready to give up, the little scamp piped up again.

"Alright. I'll leave you to a clean conscience if you can tell me one reason why you are not sailin' to Isla Ocultado to carry out the task yer father left fer you."

Jack blinked, which took a surprising amount of effort as the last bit of rum soaked into his blood stream. He raised one hand as if to use it to emphasize whatever he was just about to say, but then the tunnel vision began to take completely over.

"Jack," mini-Jack said sternly, slapping him on the knuckle. "I won't let you pass out until you give me a satisfactory answer, savvy?"

"Wot?" Jack said, the world coming into focus once again. "I have ev'ry intention on givin' you yer answer. However, me brain seems to have misplaced a few of the words I would need to make my answer truly worth yer time, so if you'll excuse me…"

"JACK."

A sharp prick to the back of his hand forced the captain to look back down at the flask once again. Mini-Jack swayed on the strap, brandishing a tiny sword.

"Fine, fine. You win, okay?" Jack sighed, and was pleasantly surprised to find his sense of smell was still in focus enough to pick up the alcohol on his breath. "I haven't done what I be needin' to do yet." Swallowing hard, he did his best to continue comprehensible sentences. "I need to get my name out, live in infamy, be written about in the stars, you get the general idea." He waved one hand around vaguely.

Mini-Jack seemed to live for smug remarks. "And giving the map to the farthest gate to Barbossa fits in that plan…how?"

Jack resisted the urge to flick the tiny pirate into the sea. "I didn't _give _him the map. The bloody swindler conned me out of it, and you can bet your Aunt Fanny that I won't be surrendering it in any permanent fashion to that phantasmic swine. Once I get it back, my real plan will commence, savvy? The name 'Captain Jack Sparrow' has not properly impressed itself upon history just yet, and I will not go down under the name Teague."

The efforts of that last speech finally claimed the captain's consciousness, and mini-Jack allowed himself to vanish with Jack's cognizance.

* * *

The past week had been a real eye-opener for the young William Turner. He always knew being a hero was a hard job, but he had no idea one had to be so secretive about it. Nobody was allowed to know what they were up to, Master Hobbins made that point very clear. It had been four days, and Will had not been allowed out of the inn they were staying at, for fear of somebody recognizing him. Will tried to reassure Master Hobbins that he would know a bad guy when he saw one, but Master Hobbins was very adamant that he stay put.

To make up for the confinement, Master Hobbins had given Will a rather large dagger to practice some self defense with, since it "looked like ye be needin' some practice, with those dockside bilgerats chasin' ye down". After then bashfully admitting to being chased by Tommy and his gang at least a couple of times every week, Will's new friend was quick to come up with a solution. Despite not being very sharp, Master Hobbins assured Will that his dagger would still do the trick in a pinch.

"Ye don' need it to kill them boys," he had said to Will, grinning like a fool. "All ye has to do is threaten to chop of a finger or two." Master Hobbins had wiggled his left hand's finger stubs in Will's face then for effect. It always made the boy flinch, and always made Master Hobbins laugh.

They two had struck up on odd sort of friendship over the past few days. Master Hobbins had to be out on the town for most of the daylight hours, but by nightfall he would always return with some bread and cheese for supper. Will would give him updates on his progress vanquishing invisible foes, and Master Hobbins would in turn regale Will with tales of his own foe-fighting days. It seemed that the strange eight-fingered man led quite the adventurous life, and Will was keen to join in. The ideas of chasing enemies down on the high seas like Master Hobbins had done filled the boy's mind during the lonely days in the inn. Unfortunately though, his imagination could not keep out the harsh reality of his situation for as long as Will hoped it would.

Will missed his mother terribly. He had never been away from her for this long before, and not knowing where she was scared him a great deal. Master Hobbins seemed worried, too, though he tried not to show it in front of the boy. However, whenever Will mentioned his mother or their mission to save her, Master Hobbins seemed to get a pained expression in his eyes. This did not comfort young Will one bit.

He tried to put his fears into energy for dagger practice. Since Master Hobbins was not around for much of the time, Will had to make up practice exercises for himself. He would swing the dagger around through the air, imagining how to get it past opponents that were not there. He would throw it at a wooden table overturned on its side, which he had carved a big X onto as a target the first day. Sometimes he would then just practice pulling it out of its sheath without it getting caught, which happened embarrassingly often.

What Will really wanted was a sword. He knew all proper heroes had a sword. But Master Hobbins did not have a spare sword, so he had to settle for the dagger. Master Hobbins did promise, though, that if he learned how to use the dagger well, he could graduate to a sword given time.

As the creaky inn door opened that night, Will was bursting at the seams. "Master Hobbins! Master Hobbins! Guess what I did? You'll never guess!"

The scruffy looking gentlemen laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. "An' what be it ye did today, Will? Have ye fought off another troop of ogres, or did ye get the banshees this time?" he asked, kicking off his muddy boots to the corner, and coming inside to get the fire going stronger.

"No, no, better than that!" Will ran over to the target practice table. "Look! I got my dagger to hit the X from all the way back _there!_" Will pointed farther back in the room, then ran to the spot he had his earlier success at, beaming at the blond bearded man.

"Why, Will, tha's got to be a whole ten feet back! Well done, lad!" Master Hobbins congratulated him.

Will's spirits soared. _William the Great has honed his dagger skills to a level beyond all reckoning. Even the infamous __Hobbins__ the Magnificent could not deny that his talent surpassed all before him. _"Does that mean I get to have a sword now?" he asked eagerly, running back over to a non-flipped table where Master Hobbins was laying out their bread.

The firelight danced on Master Hobbins face as he shook his head sadly again. "Not yet, Will. Someday, I promise ye."

Will cast his eyes down to the dusty floor. While he had suspected as much of an answer, the boy had so little to hope for at the moment, that even this small blow threatened to be too much to handle. Tears began welling up in his eyes.

Master Hobbins frowned. "Hey, now, what's all that about, eh?" He raised Will's chin up with his good hand. The young Turner boy did his best to blink back his tears. "Heroes don't cry, lad. Especially not over somethin' so triflin' as a new sword. Now, ye jus' be hungry, I'm sure tha's the real trouble, right?" He set a slice of cheese down on Will's plate and ushered him up into his chair. Will's spirits were not raised one bit by the man's attempts at consolation.

_How am I supposed to be a proper hero when I don't even get to practice at being one? _The boy thought, worried. He nibbled at his cheese like a nervous house mouse waiting for the cat. The fire which had seemed bright moments ago was dimming fast, and a cold breeze crept through the room for one of the broken window panes.

"Anyway," Master Hobbins continued, taking a large chunk of bread in his cavity-ridden mouth. "Ibehafsogunoosf'ee."

Will frowned, mid-chew. "What?"

The older man swallowed and took a swig of ale. "Ahem. I said I be havin' some good news fer ye." Master Hobbins paused for dramatic effect, his eyes twinkling. "How'd ye like to get away from this town and out onta' the seas, mate?"

The boy nearly fell off his chair in excitement. "What?! Really? When?"

"Tomorrow," Master Hobbins replied, grinning at the boy's abrupt change in mood. "I finally got us a ship out of here. We set sail at dawn fer the Caribbean, and fer yer Cap'n Jack Sparrow."

Will got up off the floor and began hopping up and down, dust clouds billowing at his feet. "Yes! Let's go! I'm ready to save Mum!"

Master Hobbins gave a hearty laugh. "Glad to hear it, mate!" He finished his last swig of ale and stood up, slamming the cup down and walking over to pull Will's dagger out of the X. "Now, let's get ye some real practice in before heading to bed. Who knows how soon ye will be havin' to know how to use one of these 'gainst more 'n a table an' thin air."


	5. Chapter 4

**New chapter! See, I promised I would continue. I just tend to be too busy to write as often as I would like. Thanks again for the encouraging reviews!**

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Chapter 4

The first thing to cross Will Turner's mind when he stepped onto _The Merry Maid _was that the deck wobbled a lot more than he was comfortable with. Fairly nervous, he noted with frustration that Master Hobbins did not seem at all distressed at the unsteady nature of the vessel, and was walking confidently toward the captain. In a hurried attempt not to look completely useless on a real-life ship, Will rushed to catch up, lugging two large sacks of flour along with him.

"Thank ye once again fer allowin' us to lend a hand wif yer crew for this voyage, Cap'n Porter," Master Hobbins said graciously. "Me boy an' me will be happy to do anythin' you ask. He might look a wee bit small, but you'll never find yeself a harder worker."

Unfortunately, a rippling wave chose that moment to pass under the ship, jolting Will off his feet and dumping him spread eagle over the sacks he had been dragging.

"Billy!" Master Hobbins said sternly, using the pseudonym they had decided on earlier that morning. "You'll be sprayin' flour all over the deck if ye don' be more careful, lad."

Captain Porter raised a concerned eyebrow. "Mister Hodge, you had said your boy had the sealegs of a grown sailor." He looked at 'Mister Hodge', distrust pooling in his hazel eyes. "This lad doesn't look like he's ever been on a ship before, much less raised on one as you suggested."

Master Hobbins bellowed out a deep laugh, covering up the nervous hiccup he had just let out. "Oh, he'll be alright, you'll see, Cap'n. 'E always gets like this when boardin' a new ship. Adjusts so well to the previous one, see, that the new deck takes some gettin' used to." He grinned at Will, who quickly nodded his head in confirmation.

Captain Porter did not look convinced, but he let it slide. "Very well. He had better become accustomed to it soon, though. I won't have any of my cabin boys tripping over themselves once we get out to sea."

"O' course, sir!" Master Hobbins said, helping Will up with one hand a throwing a salute with the other. "Absolutely, sir! He'll be jus' fine in a momen' or two, you'll see."

Actually, Will felt the opposite of 'fine'. He felt panicked. _Cabin boy? I thought we were going as passengers! I don't know how to be a cabin boy!_ "Master Hobbins!" he hissed in a fearful tone once the captain was out of earshot. "I didn't know we were – "

"Hush, Billy!" Master Hobbins eyes flashed a warning and he covered the boy's mouth with one hand. He glanced around, scanning the crew, then turned back to Will, whispering, "It's Mister Hodge now, boy. Yer me son, Billy, and yer gonna be the second cabin boy for _The Merry Maid _fer as long as we're onboard this vessel. I only had enough money to barter our way onto this ship, but we had to agree to work fer the captain while we're here."

Will's eyes were still wide with worry. "But Master – oh, um, Mister Hodge, I've never even been out to sea on _any_ boat, much less such a big merchant ship! How am I supposed to know what to do?"

Master Hobbins patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Just watch the first cabin boy. Follow his lead and do what he tells you to do, unless it goes against the captains orders. Yer gonna hafta be strong here, Billy. A true hero is one who be needin' to know how to adapt to his new circumstances quick-like. Ye want to get to the Caribbean, now, don't ye?"

Will nodded, doing his best to maintain his footing when a wave rolled by again. _Brave William Turner fears no challenge. Instead, like all true heroes, he learns to adapt when a problem arises. _The boy gulped, determined to shunt away all fear. "Yes, Mister Hodge."

"Good," the shabby blond man said, picking up one of the sacks of flour for Will. "Oh," he leaned forward and winked at the boy. "Ye might want to start calling me 'Father' or somefin along those lines, eh boy?"

Will nodded again and grabbed the other sack of flour to lug below deck to storage. _No wonder he was so insistent that I carry these bags up here for the captain. Maybe he thought I was smart enough to figure out why on my own? _Will's cheeks turned crimson, worrying that he once again disappointed such a well-seasoned hero like Master Hobbins. Gritting his teeth in determination, he hefted the flour sack up and headed down the salty, creaking stairs.

_Cabin boy. You can do this._

* * *

Three days on board, and Will still was getting seasick. Without his mother there, being ill was even more embarrassing. He missed her terribly. However, every time he brought her up, Master Hobbins became very upset and started waving his hands around angrily. "Don't ye go mentionin' yer mother 'round any man of the sea, boy! None of them can know who ye are, understand?" Master Hobbins had said to Will the night before. Will still felt shame from that incident, though he wished he understood why talking about his mother was so taboo, if he did not actually say her name.

Shame it seemed was no substitute for seasickness. The young boy hurled for the second time that morning, watching his vomit splash into the ocean waves and separated as it drifted away. He always tried to hide being ill, particularly from Roger, the first cabin boy, but that morning he was finally caught.

"Hey, Billy, what's that there yer doin'?" Roger said, leaning over the starboard rail next to Will. One look at the dirtied side of the ship and he did not need to ask twice. The older boy gasped and immediately covered Will's mouth with his hand, ignoring the fact that there was vomit on Will's lips.

Will tried to protest as Roger pulled him back from the side of the ship. "Sick to starboard, before the sun reaches noon, you'd better beware, for the Kraken comes soon!" he chanted in a sing-song, yet fearful tone. Uncovering Will's mouth, he glared at the boy. "What do you think yer doin'? Tryin' to get us all eaten?"

Will swallowed, confused and still feeling ill. "What? No, I –"

Roger wiped his dirty hand on Will's shirt. "No excuses. If you hafta get sick, never do it off the Starboard deck, especially in the morning!" he said, as if that should have been as clear to Will as the fact that stars come out at night.

Will nodded quickly, not wanting to upset his new friend any more than he apparently had that day. Roger looked very frightened now, glancing out repeatedly towards the sea. Wanting to quell the older boy's worries, without thinking Will said, "My mum says that the Kraken was killed many years ago. She didn't see it herself, but her friends did. And my father, too. He did not see it up close, but he told her he saw it from the ship he was on, all washed up on the shore of some island."

Roger smiled at him like Will just did not know what he was saying. "No, that's impossible. You can't kill the Kraken. Yer mum is wrong."

Will gasped, devotion to his mother causing his seven year-old brain to shut off any recollection of Master Hobbins' pleads for him not to discuss his true parentage. "My mum is not wrong! If she said it's dead, then it is dead!"

"Then yer father's wrong, and told her wrong." Roger shrugged.

Rage boiled beneath the seven year-old's skin. "My father would not lie! He's a great man!" Several sailors looked up at the two boys, seemingly amused at their argument.

Roger laughed. "A great man? That pathetic, drunk, petty thief?"

"He is not a thief!" Will argued, horrified that anyone would dare talk about his life-long hero like that.

Roger laughed at the younger boy. "O'course he is. Didn't you hear? First mate caught him lifting silverware at supper the other night. I suppose slight of hand gets hard to do with only three fingers." He snickered.

Will's mouth hung open, his mind finally registering who Roger was talking about. Relieved that the accusations against his true father were being lifted, but still a bit hurt and indignant that Roger would talk about Master Hobbins that way, Will frowned at the boy. _So much for friends, _Will thought to himself, pouting. _Master Hobbins would never steal. He's a good man. He's earned my trust, just as I've earned his…_his inner thoughts trailed off after realizing what he had just done. He had broken his word. He spoke about his mother in front of the crew. Will glanced around at several of the sailors who had been eavesdropping in on their conversation. _Master Hobbins is going to be very angry with me_, Will fretted.

Roger saw his worry and mistook it for him still being upset at their disagreement. He put a comforting hand on Will's shoulder. "Eh, Billy, I didn't mean it. Jus' havin' a bit of sport with you. C'mon now, let's go see what Captain Porter needs us to do before midday."

Will nodded as an acceptance of the apology, and on still-shaky sealegs, followed the first cabin boy down to the captain's cabin. Too distracted, young Will Turner completely failed to notice how the eyes of one of the crew members followed him along, narrowing at his back as he knocked on the captain's doors.

* * *

After nearly a week of being blindfolded, the light that hit Elizabeth's eyes was a welcomed source of pain. She squinted, but refused to close her eyes even to blink.

The stooge who had removed the blindfold laughed mirthlessly as he watched her struggle against the bright midday sun and its reflection off the sea. Elizabeth paid him no mind, as she glanced this way and that, determined to confirm what she had surmised from her other senses.

The ship they were on was not unlike the _H.M.S. Interceptor_, though perhaps it was a little larger. Certainly it looked more robust. It almost bulged at its seams. Elizabeth doubted it would have ever caught the _Interceptor _in its prime, especially not with all the extra finery hacked onto every decorative surface of this beast.

The ship was out at sea. Though where, she had no idea. From the cold blasts of wind, Elizabeth doubted they had yet reached the Caribbean, but she knew that was their destination, after having overheard two crew members discuss it last night when she was brought on board.

"Comfortable, my lady?" the man asked her indifferently, cocking his head to one side while watching her shiver a bit.

Elizabeth shot her unnamed captor a nasty look, and began walking around the deck, testing the limits of her new freedom. Up until yesterday, the Pirate King had been crudely shut away in the leaking belly of a lumbering supply ship. Food and water had been supplied, but hastily and always with some scathing remark from the lowly sailor set the task. Her hands had only been untied for food or, well, hygienic needs. The blindfold remained a constant. Last night, however, she had heard voices shouting to and fro. From the way the waves crashed, Elizabeth had construed that another ship was approaching theirs. Soon after, she had been yanked to her feet by two sailors and hurried across a long plank. Unable to see where it led, Elizabeth had nearly had a panic attack in recalling the last time she was on such a board. However, to her relief, this had led her to another vessel, rather than into open air. She had then been roughly shoved below deck. She had heard voices not too far away, such as the ones from the crew that discussed their presumed destination. However, she had also heard another voice. One that had bothered her all day. It was vaguely familiar, but she could not put a face to it. All she could remember was that whoever it belonged to had left her with an ill feeling the last time they had spoken.

Now, hands and feet free, blindfold gone, Elizabeth searched the deck for that man.

He found her first.

"Ah, Captain Turner," the voice said, coming from behind Elizabeth. She turned to see a aging man bow mockingly in her direction. "Your _Majesty_." He smirked, lifting his head to look her in the eye.

Elizabeth swallowed a gasp, determined to stay cool and collected. "Captain Piers," she acknowledged, narrowing her eyes. "It's been too long."

"Ah, so it has," Piers agreed, striding towards her. "The last time we met, I am afraid we never were able to finish our conversation, remember? Back in the Main Hall of Shipwreck Cove?"

Elizabeth did remember. He had put her on edge then, and she was getting no better vibes from him now.

"Too bad the Code Keeper had to go and interrupt our lovely debate," his eyes gleaned as he watched her flinch at his mention of Teague. "Ah, so you've heard then? Poor devil. Sometimes, you just need to get your head out of dusty old books and take a better reading of the people you choose to keep nearby." He laughed pleasantly.

Elizabeth felt very on guard. She felt certain that this well-groomed man was nothing but a front for a much more sinister soul.

"So," he clapped his hands together. "If you would do me the great honor, I would immensely enjoy sitting down to a nice supper with you, and perhaps continuing our discussion from seven years ago?"

Elizabeth glared at him, but knew from experience that she would have no choice in this matter. "Of course, good sir," she said icily, "Lead the way."

Piers continued his air of diplomacy as they entered the Great Cabin, where a light dinner had been set out. It was not nearly as dark and dismal as most pirates tended to keep their cabins, and instead the setting almost reminded one of a Sunday picnic. After a few moments of obligatory silence while the wine was poured and tasted, the gray-wigged captain spoke up again.

"Now, Captain Turner, I believe when we last had the pleasure of speaking, we had just gotten around to the topic of your late husband, when dear old Captain Teague broke in."

Elizabeth felt her anger begin to be replaced by fear. Not wanting to give Piers the satisfaction of seeing her nerves jump, she covered her emotions with a quick scathing remark. "Yes, and the last time we spoke, you had led us all to believe you were one of us, a pirate bound to honor the Code."

Piers smiled sympathetically. "Oh, my dear, I do see why you would be upset. But a pirate has only one person to look out for, and that is always himself. I am still an honorable man. A full-fledged privateer for the Royal Navy and the East India Trading Company." He straightened his shoulders, and Elizabeth was reminded of the way Cotton's parrot used to preen itself. "Not to sound overly boastful, but I have risen through the ranks of privateers very quickly, and am now looking at a prospect of life-long financial security, and judicial pardon. I just have one little task to complete, and that is where you come in, Captain." He nodded towards her, as if in thanks.

Blood pounded through Elizabeth's veins. "Why you bloody, spoiled turncoat," she said, dropping her voice to a threatening whisper. "I will see you hanged for this, make no mistake. You forget who you are speaking to. One word from me, and your little ship will be at the bottom of the seas, waiting to be claimed by Calypso herself."

Piers chuckled appreciatively. "Brave words, your Majesty, but who will listen to them here? I assure you, I am in no way asking for your forgiveness. I only ask for your cooperation."

Elizabeth felt the urge to push herself away from the neatly arranged table and storm out of the cabin. Years ago, she might have gone through with such rash emotional action, but she knew deep down it would get her nowhere. Instead, she resorted to glaring challengingly at the traitor, while sipping her wine.

Seeing that he was not going to get a response, Piers continued. "Your husband," he started simply, patting the corners of his mouth clean with a white cloth napkin. "He is not dead. I know what happened that day on board the _Flying Dutchman_." He leaned in, the ends of his curled wig spilling over his shoulders. His voice lowered. "Will Turner has replaced Davy Jones. His heart now resides in the Dead Man's Chest. And you, my dear King, know exactly where that is." He smirked triumphantly, seeing through Elizabeth's best attempts at retaining a neutral expression.

Elizabeth swallowed. "I do not know what you are talking about."

Piers laughed. "Indeed? Survivors of the _Endeavour _sinking beg to differ. I have half a dozen good men who swear to have seen a new captain on board the _Dutchman _during its attack. A captain bearing a striking resemblance to the late William Turner."

Elizabeth could not help the fear from seeping into her eyes now. _How much have they found out? _she wondered, her mind automatically going to her son.

"I bet you are feeling a mite bit silly now for letting the navy ships return to collect the drowning sailors," Piers said, wallowing in pride. "Oh, you people with your compassion." His eyes burned into her, an unreadable expression in them. Unexpectantly, he reached forward and traced a cold finger along her hand. Elizabeth yanked her hand back, clenching her fist. Piers pulled back more slowly.

"So, to come straight to the point," the privateer continued after a moment, clasping his hands together and settling back in his chair. "You will take us to the Chest, for it seems to be the only way to truly summon the _Dutchman _from its depths. Once we have your husband's attention, he will not be able to withstand our threats. The East India Trading Company will once again direct the power of the _Dutchman _to serve our wishes and commands."

Elizabeth let out a laugh. "No!" she said, looking at the captain like he had gone crazy. "Why should I? Besides, Will has no fear of death. You kill him, and you must replace him, bound to serve Calypso's task for all eternity."

Piers smiled. "Oh, we are not going to kill Will, my dear. My fellow officers and I have discussed this in great deal. None of us could dream of going through the horror your husband must be dragged through each and every day."

His words stung at her heart, but she vowed to use that sting as further ammunition for the shield of strength she was building up.

"No, he will do what we ask, I have no doubt of that."

Elizabeth shook her head, stubbornly. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but my husband will never hurt innocent people just because you tell him to. Like I said, he has no fear of death."

Piers narrowed his eyes. "He fears death. There is no man who does not fear death. The question is," he paused for dramatic effect, staring straight at Elizabeth, "Just whose death does he fear most?"

Elizabeth's eyes began to widen as she realized what Piers was planning.

"Yes. Now you see," he smiled. "Will Turner will do whatever we ask, as long as we hold your life on the line for it. The brilliance of the plan lies in its simplicity. You compassionate people are just too easy to manipulate." The traitorous captain reached forward once again, this time running his hand along Elizabeth's trembling face.

Anger overcoming her, Elizabeth snatched his wrist and twisted it sharply. Piers gasped in sudden pain.

"Why you little witch," he said, pulling his hand protectively in towards his body. "You are lucky I would never strike a lady."

Elizabeth stood up, emotions running high. "I am no lady. I am your King. And you, traitorous scum, will never learn where the Chest is hidden. I will not cooperate with treason."

Piers remained seated, rubbing his wrist. His eyes, which had earlier been nothing but mockery, were now nothing but fire. "You will cooperate, for the same reason your dearly beloved will. I already know where your heart lies. I have my best men out there at this very moment, watching and waiting. How safe do you really think your son is, Captain Turner?"

Elizabeth felt tears choke her up. She squeezed her eyes shut. "You bastard," she said, voice quavering.

"Yes, I do get that a lot."


	6. Chapter 5

AN: Yes, it has been forever since I updated this. But I plan on working on it over the summer, so hopefully people won't need to wait another year for an update!

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Chapter 5

A pod of dolphins skimmed the water around _The Merry Maid _as it pulled closer to harbor at its Caribbean port. A young boy with mousy brown hair stared over the ships aft railing, an incredulous look on his face as he watched the spunky and playful creatures. Several of the dolphins seemed to watch him in return.

Calypso was satisfied. He would do. A bit young at the moment, but given time, he would be perfect. Several members of the dolphin pod leapt through the air in a series of acrobatics. The sea goddess was not above showing off, and it was imperative that the boy become obsessed with the seas.

She flipped and dazzled in her many-bodied form, pleased to distract young William Turner from his usual mid-afternoon sea-sickness. It was unfortunate that he was forced to grow up away from where he belonged. _Bratty little wench, _Calypso thought to herself, remembering the child's mother. _She had no right to take him from me. To hide him away like that: away from the oceans. Away from his destiny!_

Anger began to seethe through Calypso's veins. Knowing she could not keep up the happy-go-lucky state of mind to retain dolphin form any longer that way, Calypso allowed her pod to sink beneath the waves, transforming into a school of yellowfin tuna. She lost sight of the boy and the ship, and she berated herself silently for letting emotions get the best of her once again. Still, at least now she knew he was here. Determined not to miss this opportunity now that the boy was so close, she swam away into deeper waters, to plot and to wait.

*****

Will pushed through the crowd of sailors, intent on finding either Roger or Master Hobbins and dragging them to the aft deck to see the wonderful smiling creatures that kept jumping out of the water. He saw Master Hobbins first, tightening up a sail line.

"Father, Father!" Will shouted, pleased at remembering to use the fake title he usually forgot about. "You won't believe what is behind the ship! There are these big fish things, right? And they blow water out of their heads!"

Master Hobbins chuckled. "Aye, dolphins. That's what ye be seein' back there. Very common 'round 'ere."

Will tugged on his dirtied sleeve. "You have to come see!"

Master Hobbins smiled. "I've seen me fair share of dolphins, boy. But have you seen what be layin' jus' off the bow?" He gently directed the young boy by his shoulders to face the front of the ship.

Will's eyes widened at the sight. There, in front of him, was a sandy beach leading to a series of anchored ships along several piers. The docks led up to a town very reminiscent of Will's birthplace, except of course for all of the strange green trees lining the sand and streets. It was like something from a dream – just on the edge of being familiar.

"It's an island! We've made it!" Will ran forward in excitement, his small feet pounding echoed thumps along the wooden decks.

He heard Master Hobbins wheeze out a few more laughs, as he caught up to Will with a few long strides. "Aye, this be Port Beckett." Master Hobbins spat.

"Somethin' funny in your mouth, Mister Hodges?" Roger asked, waddling up to the pair with a large bucket splashing about in his hands.

"Ye might be sayin' that," he answered evasively. The blonde man patted Will on the shoulder. "Well, I'll jus' be lettin' ye take a good an' proper look there, lad. I best be getting' back to work."

Will nodded, barely hearing the man. This world in front of him was like nothing his young eyes had ever seen before. Strange, bendy trees, crystal blue waters, birds of all sorts of variety and color. While the port bore a resemblance to that of the port town he was raised in, here against this backdrop of clear skies and white sand, it suddenly seemed more thrilling and exotic.

"Aye, it's great to be home," Roger smiled, setting his bucket down.

Will turned to face the older boy, surprised. "You were raised here?"

Roger nodded. "Sure was. And if they don't get held up, me mom and sister are supposed to be meetin' me at the docks." He grinned. "I haven't seen them for months."

Will felt a sudden twang of loneliness. _William the Great took in the Caribbean view appreciatively, but wished he could share it with his family. At least with his mother…_

"Hey, Billy, you are alright there, ain't ye?" Roger asked, noticing the boy's downcast look.

"What? Oh, yes, I am fine," he lied, then pointed out the bucket by the first cabin boy's feet. "Shouldn't we get back to cleaning, er, swabbing the deck?"

"Right you are," Roger clasped Will on the back as they turned to go back to their duty. "You know, when ye first came on board, I was not too sure how you was going to be much help, with you bein' so young and all. But I be figurin' now that you are a right good cabin boy, and I'm glad to have worked with ye."

Will blushed with pride as the two children walked across the deck, water splashing back and forth out of the massive bucket Roger lugged along.

*****

A lone figure in black stood a ways back from the docks. He had just received a note from a sailor who has disembarked _The Merry Maid _in quite a rush. A smile played across the man's features and he straightened his feathered hat on his head.

He waited patiently. It would not be long, he knew, before his quarry was revealed to him. He had been watching the ship be unloaded of its supplies for a while now. It was almost emptied.

_Ah._ _There_.

A smiling boy walked down the gangplank of _The Merry Maid_, looking about the docks in seeming great interest.

The man left the wall he had been leaning on and moved forward, quickly but casually.

_I knew I would be the one to find him. That reward Piers promised will soon be mine._

*****

"This place is incredible!" Will exclaimed to Master Hobbins for the third time since they had made port.

The blond man chuckled. "Aye, Billy, that it be. The way yer carryin' on, are ye sure ye don' want'er be movin' in 'ere? I could jus' set ye up with a decent tradesman down in the town, find ye a nice room to stay in…" He winked a sparkling eye down at the boy.

Will giggled in spite of himself. Together, they picked up the last of boxes and began carrying it down the ramp.

"Hey, Master Hobbins?"

"'Father', Billy, ye should still be callin' me 'Father'," came the reply from the other side of the box.

"Oh right, um, well," Will squinted down the gangplank. "Who is that strange man walking with Roger?"

Down on the docks a man cloaked in black had his arm around the cabin boy and was steering him off towards the streets of the town. Roger could barely be seen through the feather cascading down the man's hat.

As Master Hobbins and his charge reached the end of the gangplank, they set the box down and Master Hobbins looked in the direction Will had indicated. "Well, I can't say I know him," Master Hobbins scratched his beard with the remaining three fingers of his left hand. "His father, maybe?"

Will crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Roger said he was to meet his mother and sister here. He said nothing about his father."

Master Hobbins frowned. "That is odd, then. I'm not sure I like the look of this strange fellow. Seein' as Roger's a good friend of yers now, I suspect you'll be wantin' to make sure he is safe, is that right, Billy?" He asked Will, who nodded furiously. "Alright then." Master Hobbins smiled toothily, and his eyes shown with pride for the seven year old. "Let me just clear up the end of our business venture with the good Captain, and then, well, then we'll get t'start up some real fun."

Will's danced from one foot to the other waiting for Master Hobbins to finish talking to Captain Porter. The man in black was getting further and further away, and with him, Roger. Just as his patience was about to wear out, Master Hobbins appeared at Will's side, handing him his knapsack.

"Alright, boy, let's go."

The duo moved at a quick pace over the squeaky docks, Will leading the way as he had been the one keeping an eye on where Roger was being shepherded. The streets of this town were sandier than those Will was used to, and the temperature was far warmer. However, these observations were at the back of his mind as he raced along on short legs, moving as fast as he could go without creating a scene.

They reached a crossroads, and Will could just make out the tip of the black-feathered cap turning to the right down a narrow alleyway. Tugging at Master Hobbins' sleeve, Will followed the bobbing feather over the top of the crowd. They soon reached the alley, the noise of the crowded streets diminishing as they passed out of the main road and in between buildings. Several dusty crates sat blocking the entrance to the alley, and just as Will began looking for a way around them, he heard the heart-stopping metallic sound of a sword being unsheathed.

Shock raced through his veins, and Will sprang forward without a thought, scaling the crates to get to his friend who was in certain mortal danger just down the alleyway. However, he did not get far, as Master Hobbins quickly grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him down, cursing violently.

"Damn it all, Will, don't ye be thinkin' in that small head o' yers?" Master Hobbins scolded in hushed tones. "Ye never run to'ards a fight without knowin' the odds ye be facin', boy!" With that, Master Hobbins slid a crate over to one side to peer down the alley.

Will popped his head up forcibly, wanting to see what danger his friend had landed himself in. Gasping, he saw Roger cowering on the ground, a wicked looking sword pointed at his heart, wielded by the black-clothed man standing over him.

"What do you mean, you are not William Turner?" the man asked, eyes narrowing.

"I…I don't even know no William Turner, sir, honest!" Roger's eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling at a heightened pace.

"Well, if you are not Turner, then I have no further use for you."

Roger backed up on his hands in sheer panic, as the man with the sword started after him.

Master Hobbins fists tightened at his side. "Why that bloody livered bilge rat…"

Will's face must have displayed his distress, because Master Hobbins then took a calmer tone. "Listen, Will, whatever happens, ye need to stay put _here_, ye understand? Don't get in me way."

Before Will had a chance to argue, Master Hobbins shoved the crates aside, leapt down the alley, his sword suddenly brandished and gleaming in the midday sun.

"Hands off that boy, ye filthy scum! He has done nothin' ter earn yer blade."

The man in black turned in surprise, sword flying up just in time to catch the crashing blow that Master Hobbins brought down upon him.

Roger gasped in alarm. "Mister Hodges!"

"This here is none of your concern," the man with the feathered hat answered, matching each swing of Master Hobbins' sword with his own impressive parries. "I suggest you leave, - ooof!" he cried out in pain and surprise as Master Hobbins danced him into a wall. Recoiling, and temporarily switching sword hands, the man continued. "Leave before you regret it, and learn stay out of other people's business."

The expression on Master Hobbins' face darkened. "I hardly think threatenin' the life of a child could be considered 'business'," he said, then lunged aggressively, causing the man in black to retreat a few alarmed steps.

Will watched in trepidation, as the fight continued on, neither man backing down. He wanted to help, but Master Hobbins had said to stay put. _What sort of person orders William the Great to stay put when there is hero work to be done? _Will thought, frustrated and scared. He then noticed Roger slowly inching away from the two men, trying to creep his way out of the alley unnoticed.

"Psst!" Will hissed. "Roger! Over here!"

Roger glanced up in surprise, noticing Will's face peering between the crates near the alley's entranceway. Crawling at an increased speed, he managed to squeeze himself around the edges of the crates to collapse in relief at Will's side.

"Oi, Billy, you have no idea how glad I am to see you," Roger leaned against a wooden crate, putting a hand to his forehead in an effort to calm down his shaking. "How did you find me?"

"I saw you leaving the docks with that strange man, and I knew you said you would be meeting your mother, not your father, so I didn't like the look of your situation one bit," Will explained. "So I got me and Master Hobbins to follow you two – "

Roger frowned. "You and who?"

"Me and Master – oh no," Will grimaced. "Oh, promise you won't tell, Roger? Master Hobbins will be so upset…"

"Er, well, I guess – "

Just then, there was a great crash, and Roger and Will looked up over the crates to see both men fallen just on the other side of the wooden boxes, the man in black pinning Master Hobbins to the ground, sword's crossed at Master Hobbins' neck.

"And so the annoying interferer gets his comeuppance," the man in black said, smiling as sweat dripped off his forehead, his body leaning against the crates at a perpendicular angle to Master Hobbins.

Fear raced through Will's mind. _No! I will not lose Master Hobbins like this! _

Roger's eyes were wide. "Billy, what do we - "

Will thought fast, glancing around and coming to a decision. "Roger, help me with this crate! We have to push it onto that man's legs! On three,"

The boys grabbed the sides of a crate perched on top the others. "One, two –"

"Three!" they shouted together, pushing hard. The wooden crate toppled down, crashing onto the bad man's legs and pinning him down. He howled in pain, dropping his sword and collapsing onto Master Hobbins' torso. Master Hobbins took the opportunity and wriggled out from under his opponent, looking up in surprise and gratitude at the two boys standing on the opposite side of the crates.

"I…I stayed put, Master Hobbins," Will said, proudly, grinning at his guardian.

Master Hobbins let out a loud bark of laughter. "Aye!" he said, wiping the sweat off his face, and kicking some dirt at the man on the ground. "So ye did, boy!"

Roger, still shaking like a leaf, piped up. "Can…can we get going now? Please?"

Nodding, Master Hobbins said, "O' course, Roger. Just one last thing to take care of."

Without warning, Master Hobbins picked up a rock and brought it down, smashing it against the man's head.

Will gasped in alarm and Roger's eyes bulged.

"Alright, let's – what?" Masters Hobbins asked, looking very puzzled. "Oh, this?" he hefted the rock up.

Will nodded dumbly and Roger just stared.

Master Hobbins chuckled. "Boy, we had to make sure he wasn't going to follow us, see?" He leaned down and felt the man's neck for a pulse. "He's fine. Just knocked out. He'll wake up in a few hours, hopefully nice an' confused."

Master Hobbins climbed back over the crates, continuing to laugh. "You two boys were fine with sword fighting and squishing a man's legs ter the ground with a box of who knows what, but ye get squeamish at knocking a fellow unconscious. Ah, ter be young again…"

Will shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Well, I just thought, maybe we were going to have him locked up or something. Maybe find a nice soldier to come and arrest him for what he tried to do with – "

Reaching the ground on the other side of the crates, Master Hobbins grabbed Will by the scruff of his shirt and shook him. "Soldiers?!" he growled, angrily, into Will's dumbfounded face. "I need to make somefin' perfectly clear, boy," he said roughly, all warmth gone from his voice. "Never, under any circumstances, go to a soldier for help. Ye are not to talk to soldiers, nor to officers. Don't even look at 'em. Stay away from any members of the Royal Navy, at all costs. Do ye understand, lad?"

Will did not understand, but nodded anyway, terrified of what his guardian might do to him if he disagreed. He was still holding the rock, after all.

Master Hobbins let out a sigh of what seemed to be relief. "Good," he said, releasing his grip on Will's shirt. "Now, let's be findin' yer mother, eh, boy?" he turned to Roger and smiled a gold-toothed grin.

Roger gave a half smile back, his eyes still wide in panic from all he had witnessed.

*****

"Thank you so very much again, Mister Hodges," Roger's mother said, half sobbing while holding onto her boy. "We were so worried when we couldn't find him at the docks."

"It be no trouble, m'lady," Master Hobbins bowed politely. "Happy to help."

Will fidgeted awkwardly. Roger's little sister would not stop glaring at him, and it was making the boy very uncomfortable.

"You simply must come for dinner!" Roger's mother proclaimed, clapping her hands together with her arms still draped around her son.

"Oh well, I don't be knowin' 'bout that…"

"Oh, please come!" Roger said, cutting Master Hobbins off. "Billy, you must come see our home!" The older boy struggled slightly against his mother's grasp, but still allowed her to keep a hand on his shoulder.

Will brightened up at the idea of a meal in an actual home, rather than on a wobbly ship, and looked up at his guardian with big eyes. "Can we, Father?" he asked. They had made Roger promise to help them keep up the charade of their relationship, even though they did permit him to tell his mother of their heroic rescue.

Master Hobbins looked uncertain, but one glance down at Will's big brown eyes seemed to convince him. "Oh, alright. But I am afraid we won't be stayin' long, Mrs. Philips. Hafter be movin' on, ye'see."

"Of course, of course," Roger's mother said, smiling. "But I have a nice roast on the pot, in celebration of Roger's homecoming, and we would be honored if you would share it with us."

Will's mouth watered, and he was thrilled to hear Master Hobbin's say, "Well, how can we refuse such an offer? Lead the way, ma'am."

Young Will Turner fell in step behind the scraggly blond sailor, very pleased to find such hospitality in this strange new place. He glanced about him, hoping to take it all in, and jumped when he noticed Roger's sister still glaring his way, even as she walked.

His eyes flitted back and forth, nervously. The girl looked to be a year or two younger than him, with hair a shade darker than her brother's, and extremely dark eyes which did not leave Will for one second.

Determined to make things right before her anger at him ruined the meal they were going to share, Will took a couple awkward steps in her direction. He had to try to fix things. _Whatever it is that is wrong, that is. What is her problem?_

"Uh, hi. Annie, right?"

The young girl set her eyes into an even fiercer stare.

"Listen, I am sorry if I've done anything wrong by you…" Will started, unsure of what to actually apologize for. "I hope we can be friends. My name is Wi- uh – Billy, and – "

"I know your name, I heard your father tell Mum," Annie said, brushing a dark strand of hair behind her ear in frustration with the windy streets. "And I am not going to talk to you, because it is your fault that Roger almost was killed."

With that, she crossed her arms, and bustled up to her big brother and her mother. Will thought he saw a tear drop down her cheek, but could not be certain, because her face was soon shielded by her mother's skirt.

_But…but we saved him. Didn't we? _

The boy stared, utterly bewildered. This was the first time a member of the opposite sex had confused young William Turner beyond any semblance of reason, but by no means would be the last.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Good to my word, here is the next chapter! I apologize again for having such a long break between chapters 4 and 5, but I hope I can be forgiven if I keep updating on a more regular schedule.  
**

**Many thanks to my new reviewers, ammNIwriter and Nytd! **

**On with Chapter 6! **

* * *

Chapter 6

Dinner was delicious, and Will and Master Hobbins left the Philips' residence with a full stomach and directions to a local inn. Hobbins had Mrs. Philips assurances that the inn was seldom frequented by soldiers. If Mrs. Philips had found their request for inn choices odd at all, she did not let on. Her happiness at finding her Roger safe had indebted her to the strange father-son duo, and it seemed unlikely she would ever think ill of them.

Her daughter, Annie, had been quite a different story. She had barely spoken a word during dinner, and more than once, Will had sprouted a glop of mashed potatoes on his face. The girl was always careful to hide her dirtied spoon while Will cleaned off his cheeks, and nobody else in the room seemed to notice any mishaps.

Annie's goodbye had been a cold one, but by that point Will had given up on anything else. As he and his guardian headed towards the Cow Bell, the inn Mrs. Philips had recommended, the boy sighed.

"What be the matter, Will?" Master Hobbins said, finally dropping their charade.

"Oh…nothing," Will said at first, dragging his boots along the dusty street. Then he sighed again. "No, it is just that that Annie girl…she said it was my fault Roger was almost killed. Do you suppose that's true? I mean…if it wasn't for me…"

Master Hobbins frowned. "Yer fault? If that were anyone's fault, it would be mine." The man scratched his head awkwardly with the three good fingers of his left hand. "I'm sorry fer not truly believin' ye, before, boy. If I had thought yer friend was in true danger, I would not have waited to finish hagglin' with Cap'n Porter."

"Oh, no, Master Hobbins, it is not your fault!" Will exclaimed, surprised that his role model felt he needed to share in the blame.

The scraggly man gave a half smile. "See? Jus' as it is not yer fault. There be terrible men in this world, Will. They are the ones to blame, like that feller we fought off this mornin'."

Will nodded carefully. "So how do we make sure not to let bad men do bad things? …And how do we make sure not to do bad things?" he added as an afterthought.

Master Hobbins looked uncomfortable. "Well…'tis a difficult question ye be asking, Will. Sometimes, you'll find that bad men don't always do bad things, jus' as good men are not always doin' good, either. Ye jus' got ter do what is right be ye and those ye care about. That's about all anyone can do in the world."

Will thought on that for a moment, and suddenly remembered something similar that his mother had taught him years before.

_"There is no real good and evil, Will," _she had said, after he had regaled her with another one of his epic imaginary quests. _"People just do what they need to do to be able to live with themselves."_

_"But isn't doing good things the best way to live with yourself?" _Will had asked, confused.

His mother had looked a little pained at that, and chose her next words carefully. _"Yes. Yes, that is true. But each person needs to define for themselves what good really means."_

Will trudged after Master Hobbins, his seven year-old brain not quite sure what lesson to learn from all this. He was certain there was a lesson somewhere – there always was. But this time, he was having a great deal of trouble finding it.

Unwillingly, the image of Master Hobbins bringing the rock down on their attacker's head floated to the front of Will's mind.

******

Master Hobbins sighed to himself as he shut the door to their room at the Cow Bell. _The kid will be fine, let him be. If ye tell him where yer headed, he'll only worry, _he thought to himself as he quietly tip-toed down the stairs. _Or, worse, the lad'll insist he go with you._

Master Hobbins was not headed into a good part of town. Rather, he was headed into the only part of town that held any semblance to its former glory days – glory days that no child should ever lay eyes on.

He was surprised at the guilt he felt about sneaking off without a word to Will, even if it was for the boy's own good. _What has become of ye, eh? The kid's turnin' ye soft! First, that foolish rescue of Roger, and now not even being able to go out where you're needed because of fear Will'll wake up afraid of the dark, or something! Bah!_

The blond pirate shook his head back and forth, vowing to get back into his old self before he reached his destination. However, before he could even set one foot out the door of the pub at the main floor of the inn, the guilt overwhelmed him and he turned in frustration back to the bar.

"Here," he said, thrusting a pile of coins at the innkeeper. "If the boy asks fer anythin', give him what he wants. I'll be back in a couple o' hours."

Satisfied, and at the same time, wholly embarrassed with himself, Master Hobbins left the Cow Bell in a huff. It would be a fairly long walk to Little Tortuga, but if he hurried, he could still catch the midnight bar crawl.

Little Tortuga was all that was left of a once grand port. A few years back, the East India Trading Company launched a full assault on the area, claiming beyond debate that Tortuga would no longer be a haven for piracy. They changed the name to Port Beckett, and no pirate had ever forgiven them for that grievous insult. Now, only a pocket of mayhem survived, untouched by any lawful hands due to the extremely high death rate of soldiers who ventured in too far. Therefore, "in too far" was exactly where Master Hobbins was headed.

It was said that one could smell Little Tortuga before seeing it, and Hobbins always had to agree with that. The other townspeople gave it a wide berth, but to him, it smelled like home.

A series of gunshots followed by raucous laughter greeted him as he strolled onto Main Street, and he grinned at the drunken brawl that had overwhelmed the town square. _No time to join in_, Hobbins regrettably noted. He made his way to the Oily Lantern, doubling back a few times just to be on the safe side. In times like these, one could never be certain who was following you.

Finally satisfied that it was safe, the scraggly man walked into the designated pub, looking for a contact. Hobbins never knew who was going to be in at the time, but among the pirates left loyal to the Pirate King, they always made sure to have somebody at the Oily Lantern, in case of trouble.

Hobbins jaw dropped in disbelief. _Are they crazy? Or are times really getting' so hard that he was the only man to spare? _Sighing, he made his way to the back of the pub and took a seat next to a grizzled old man.

"'Ello, Cotton, fancy seein' ye 'ere," Master Hobbins said. "How is yer wife?" he asked with the code phrase.

"_BRAWWWK! Drunk as a loon, drunk as a loon!" _Cotton's parrot replied, sidling across the man's shoulders to get a better look at Hobbins.

_Well, that IS the correct response…_Hobbins noted, though he had long since ceased amazement at the bird's vocabulary.

Cotton stared at Master Hobbins, his face its usual blank façade.

Hobbins sighed again. "Listen," he said, dropping his voice. "Can ye get a message to Jack for me?"

The old man nodded, and motioned for the parrot to hop down upon the wooden table.

Hobbins took one last glance around the darkened barroom, eyeing anyone who he caught staring back at them. "Alright. Tell Jack that the King is in danger, and I've brought the Prince to the Cow Bell."

Cotton nodded, and the brightly feathered bird squawked in confirmation.

Master Hobbins was decidedly uncomfortable with this form of communication. He turned to the parrot. "Tell me the message for Jack," he demanded, not willing to take any chances.

The bird just squawked again, and fluttered up to Cotton's shoulders. The old man shrugged, and gestured for Hobbins to repeat it.

"Alright," the blond man said in frustration, drumming the three fingers of his left hand along the splintered tabletop. "Tell Jack Sparrow – "

"Tell Jack Sparrow what?"

Hobbins looked up in alarm, and pulled out his sword instinctively. One glance around, and he knew it was useless. Six men had them cornered, bayonets aimed at their chests. One of them was dressed in all black, with an egg-sized bruise on his temple. He smirked. "Hello, pirate. Long time no see?"

"Damn!" Master Hobbins swore, knowing full well they could shoot him far faster than he could reach for his own pistol. _Why didn't I kill the child-murdering bastard when I had the chance? _"Turncoats, 'ere! Did ye know about this?" he turned angrily to Cotton, who shook his head quickly. "Tricky bastards, bringin' soldiers in under disguise. Mark my words, ye'll learn nothin' from us!" he shouted at the men.

There would have been a time where a pirate would have stood up for a fellow pirate facing a group of soldiers. Particularly, when the soldiers were being lead by a traitor, and there was a bar full of pirates there to back you up.

That time had long passed.

Cotton and Hobbins were marched out into the street, not a word uttered in their defense, not even a single punch thrown. The undercover soldiers had captured their prey without any struggle at all. It was a sad time indeed to be a pirate.

Panic fluttering through Master Hobbins' heart. There was nothing for it. They would not get out of this alone. And if he did not think fast, Jack would never get his message and poor Will would be left stranded at the inn all alone. He turned to Cotton and muttered forcibly, "Yer bird!"

It took Cotton a moment, but then his eyes widened in understanding. Cotton tossed his arm upwards and snapped twice. His parrot took off in a fluff of colorful plumage, squawking its way into the night.

"Shoot it!" the man in black shouted. All guns were immediately raised and triggers were pulled, but not a single shot could manage to hit the maneuvering parrot as it sped away.

Cotton and Hobbins tried to make a break for it while the soldiers were distracted. They took off running, Hobbins shooting his pistol behind him all the while. It almost seemed like the two men were going to make it…that is, up until they ran straight dab into a full regiment. Something heavy slammed into Master Hobbins' head. Hobbins was knocked to his knees upon impact, and stars danced in front of his eyes.

"Ah, Master Hobbins. So good to see you."

The blond man had no need to see straight to know who was speaking.

"Evenin', Commodore Burtenson." He spat at the shiny boots in front of him, his world spinning faster and faster.

The navyman smiled. "Right where you said he would be, Master Lawrence," the Commodore nodded to the man in black, then turned back to the pirate at his feet. He tossed a thick wooden plank to one side. "You'll be joining me at my flagship, Hobbins. Your friend can come too, of course."

"It'll be our pleasure," Hobbins managed to slur out before slipping into unconsciousness.

******

It was a fine Caribbean day. The sun was shining, the sea was calm, and there was a gentle breeze drifting over the deck of the _Black Pearl. _Captain Jack Sparrow draped himself lazily across the helm, holding his compass out at arm's length.

"Glad t'see you up and about, Cap'n," Gibbs said, making his way up the stairs. "How's the stomach?"

"Never better, Mister Gibbs," Jack replied. "And what's even more better -we have a heading."

"Well thank the merciful mermaiden for that!" Gibbs exclaimed. "No offense, sir, but I was beginnin' to fear we'd never be sailin' straight again."

"Hmm, yes, well, I had a little chat with meself," Jack said, smirking. "Everything's settled, no need to worry." The dark-haired pirate waved pleasantly at his first mate with the back of his hand. Another glance to his compass, and he turned the wheel to starboard.

Gibbs' good mood fell a bit at that. Whenever his captain told him not to worry, something horrendously reckless was sure to come around the corner. Sighing, Gibbs decided to keep his concerns to himself for the time being, seeing as Jack was finally in good spirits. There would be time later for talking him out of whatever new goal he had set himself.

"Gibbs, would you mind getting' the boys down there to give me a bit more sail? The wind's pickin' up, and it is best if we don't miss it."

Gibbs nodded, his worry growing at how clear-headed Jack was sounding. He began his way down to the deck, pondering where exactly Jack was taking them now. Gibbs might play a fool at times, but he had worked with Captain Jack long enough to be able to narrow down what the man likely wanted most. At the moment, Gibbs felt certain it was either revenge on Barbossa for conning him out of the navigational charts, revenge on the murder of his father, or greed for some yet unnamed prize. Unfortunately, those options gave Gibbs little idea as to where they were actually headed.

The gray-bearded man was debating this with himself, when something blue and yellow flew straight into him.

"What in the name of – _blimey!_" Gibbs exclaimed, reaching down to pick up a bird off the deck of the _Pearl_. "It's Cotton's parrot!" he said, as several crew members quickly made their way over to confirm his announcement.

"No!" Marty said, looking up at the colorful bird in shock. "It can't be! He's leagues from here, in Tortuga…"

"How did he get way out here?" a red-haired pirate asked, reaching to the bird as if he expected it to be some sort of apparition.

Mr. Cotton's parrot snapped his beak at the man. "_SQUAWK! Prince Cow Bell! Prince Cow Bell!"_

The cluster of pirates made a face at one another.

"What…what do you suppose that means?" Marty asked after a moment.

"Perhaps it means that Cotton has run into a spot of trouble with a royal bovine?" Murtogg said, leaning over all of them.

Mullroy sidled up next. "A royal bovine, eh? That's what you come up with?"

"Well, seeing as it is the only hypothesis proposed, I don't see no problems with it, no," the skinnier man said defensively, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear to keep it out of the breeze.

"_BRAWK! Prince Cow Bell!"_

"Maybe…maybe it's a code. A hidden message!" Gibbs said, excitement building in his voice.

"Or maybe it just means nothing except that Cotton's been separated from his parrot," Marty said, rolling his eyes.

"Yer all wrong."

The pirates looked up in surprise to see their captain standing at the top of the stairs, his dark eyes narrowed. "Gibbs, charter course for Tortuga." Jack said in an uncharacteristically serious tone.

"Port Beckett?" If Gibbs was nervous about his captain's demeanor and mental state before, this statement drove him to full-blown anxiety. "Are ye certain, Cap'n?"

"Decidedly so," Jack said, his earlier cheer gone completely as he made his way towards the rum locker.

"But, sir! Don't you want to man the helm yerself, sir?" Gibbs called after him, hoping to maybe bring Jack out of his rediscovered meloncholy. "I thought your compass was finally workin'?"

Jack paused and turned to face his confused crew members. "It bloody well won't work now," he said, his voice carrying a noticeable edge to it. The captain's face looked remarkably distressed, and his eyes had fallen into their sunken position from days before.

"Just…hurry," he added in frustration, waving his hands at them. Jack spun around and tromped down to the rum locker, slamming the door behind him.

*****

It was like some reoccurring nightmare, but every moment was real.

Young William Turner sat in his room at the inn, watching the sun set out the window. He had been alone all day. Master Hobbins had disappeared.

_Just like mum, _he thought, tears welling up again. He wiped them on his dirty sleeve, and hugged his knees tighter against his chest. _So much for William the Great. Now you're just William the Lost._

His stomach gurgled at him. It was more persistent this time than it had been earlier. He had been too scared to venture from the room to go down to the bar and ask for bread as of a couple hours prior, but William the Lost now also happened to the William the Quite Hungry.

Taking a deep breath, Will decided that his first act of bravery would be to find food. Then, if he achieved that, he could reward himself by climbing back up into the rented room and curling into a ball under the covers.

One step at a time, Will made his way down the steps to the barroom. The smell of dinner wafting from the kitchen gave him courage.

Quiet as a mouse, he approached the lady behind the bar. "Excuse me, ma'am," Will said, bowing his head slightly. "I was wondering if you had some bread to spare? I have no money for you, but I am quite hungry, and – "

"Oh my!" the gray-haired lady gasped, looking down over the top of the bar at the young beggar boy in front of her. "You're the boy who came in with that nasty fellow, aren't you? Did the no good rascal abandon you here? What kind of cruel soul leaves a boy your age alone, and in a place like this, too!"

Anger flared up in Will, fed by his gnawing hunger. "NO!" he shouted, stepping forward. His small boots squeaked the floorboards. "Master Hob – er – my _father_ would never leave me here on purpose!" Will yelled, tears brimming in his eyes, but some semblance of pride taking up residence in his heart for thinking of keeping Master Hobbins' name hidden. "He will come back for me, you'll see!"

The woman's eyes showed nothing but pity. "You poor, poor, boy," she shook her head in the annoying adult fashion, as if to say she knew something that a child would never understand. "Come with me. Your father did leave some coins behind for you. You can buy some dinner with that."

Will felt relief wash over him. At least at the time Master Hobbins left the inn, he had done so of his own choice. If he had been kidnapped or hurt, it had not been when Will was within earshot and could have come to his defense. Will followed the innkeeper's wife like a puppy trailing after his master. The smells from the kitchen were overwhelming.

"If that father of yours does not return by the time your money runs out, I suppose we can put you to work on the dishes for a few days until we find a better place for you," the woman said, patting Will on the head. "You're too precious a boy to have to end up on the streets."

*****

A knock at the door startled Mrs. Philips into dropping her stirring spoon straight into the soup. "Goodness gracious," she said, blushing, and quickly fished it back out with an additional utensil. "Annie, be a dear and see who is at the door."

"Annie's outside playing, Mum," Roger called from down the hall. "Don't worry, I'll get it," he added, and she could hear her young man's footsteps moving toward the front hall.

The next thing she heard was a scream.

The spoon was dropped for a second time.

Roger came crashing into the kitchen, kicked across the floor by a man in black with a large feathered hat. In the arms of the strange man was Annie, a knife across her throat.

"Merciful heavens!" Mrs. Philips cried, racing forward. "YOU BRUTE! LET HER GO AT ONCE!"

"Mum, _no!_" Roger reached up and yanked hard on his mother's dress, halting her before she could reach her daughter. "_He'll kill her!"_

Mrs. Philips stumbled to a sobbing halt. "What do you want?" Tears fell down her face, and anger shook her visibly.

The man in black smiled and turned to the boy on the floor. "Roger, was it? I would _really _appreciate it if you would tell me which way your young friend went when he left here three evening's ago."

Roger seethed. "You won't hurt Billy!"

"Which way did he go, Roger?" the man asked again, his tone darkening. He dug the knife into the five year-old's throat until blood began to drip down. Annie cried silent tears.

Mrs. Philips made a sound of panic. "They went – "

"Don't tell him, Mum!" Roger shouted in warning, "He'll kill her either way! He's the one who attacked me in that ally!"

The man's eyes narrowed and he turned his attention to Mrs. Philips. "Your daughter, Mrs. Philips. Her, or William Turner. 'Billy', as you may know him. You have a minute do decide."

Mrs. Philips swallowed. Her decision would not need even a second.

"The Cow Bell," she said, her voice calm.

"_Mum!"_

"HUSH, Roger!"

The man smiled. "That was too easy. I don't think I believe you," he grinned and began pulling the knife across Annie's throat. Roger lunged at his feet, knocking Annie from the man's grasp. The girl fell to the floor, choking, and clutching at her throat in pain.

Anger flared up in Roger, and he snatched the knife from the floor and leapt at the man's chest. "Get OUT of me house! They're at the Cow Bell, you murderous bastard! Take yer information and LEAVE us!"

The man backed up quickly. Roger grabbed a bottle and slammed it against the man's temple, mimicking the blow Master Hobbins' had given him days prior.

The man slipped into unconsciousness once again.

"Roger!" Mrs. Philips gasped, as she clung to her bleeding child. "What have you done?!"

"He isn't dead, Mum. But he soon will be," Roger shook with rage and raised the knife up, posed to strike.

"Roger…" Annie's weak voice said. "Don't…not like him…"

"Roger, listen to your sister! Leave him be!"

Tears dripped off Roger's nose. "And what to ye say we do with him, then? Drop him off a dock?" He asked, refusing to look back at their faces.

"No. No, we take him outside and leave him. And then…"

Roger lowered the knife. "And then we leave here. He won't be forgivin' me for this, Mum. We have to go away. Far away." The boy turned slowly, pain written plainly across his face as he laid eyes on his bleeding sister.

Mrs. Philips stared for a moment, and then nodded in agreement.


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: I am SO sorry this took a while longer than I intended. End of the semester exams took over, but along with those were several unexpected (but welcome!) job interviews**, **and I had to pause writing to take care of *sigh* _real life_. And I wish I had more of an exciting chapter to offer as way of apology, but I'm afraid all the real excitement starts in the chapter following this one. This chapter is more talking, but nevertheless important. **

**Thank you SO much to my new reviewers! I've never had so many people following one of my stories before!**

**Nytd - thank you for your awesome reviews. And yes, Will is going to be in for quite a shock very soon!**

**Freedom - thanks very much! Yeah, the Philips' really need to get far away from all this. It's a bit too much for that young family.**

**AmNIwriter - Here it is! Just like you requested, a new chapter! =)**

**Siren - thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**Chaos - I'm so sorry I never replied to your reviews personally. I am usually much better about that. But thank you very much for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy it!**

**Alright, before we get on with this, I just want to say that I am QUITE dedicated to this story, so even if I don't post for a while, don't think I've abandoned this. Now that summer is finally here, I will have much more time to devote to writing and should update regularly, about every week or two. Thanks for your patience for this chapter!  
**

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Chapter 7

"So let me get this straight," Commodore Burtenson said, steepling his fingers. "Your friend Cotton _can't _talk, and you _won't_ talk. Why am I keeping you two alive?"

Master Hobbins grinned. "Because right now, we're yer only lead."

Commodore Burtenson frowned and wiped a sleeve across his heavily sweating forehead. The man had always been able to sweat buckets, even on the coolest of Caribbean days. Hobbins personally found it rather disgusting, but tried to hold back from joking about it _too _often in his past dealings with the Commodore. Burtenson could be quite a sensitive man, despite his large stature, and tended to react very negatively toward embarrassment. Usually by inflicting pain of the rather permanent sort on the offender.

"Damn," was the Commodore's reply. He motioned with his hand, and a portly guard slammed his fist into the side of Hobbins' face once again. Master Hobbins reeled from the blow, moving his jaw back and forth as if to shuffle it back into place.

"Sorry, Burtenson, but ye know that is jus' not goin' ter get ye any further," the blond pirate said, attempting a grin through very sore cheek muscles.

"Well, it is a good thing, then, that in actuality, you aren't our only lead," the Commodore said, a bead of sweat catching the midday sun and glistening like a small gem.

Hobbins looked up sharply. Before he had a chance to ask what the Commodore was referring to, the man in black entered the cabin. He did not bother taking off his feathered hat as he nodded his head towards the Commodore.

"You can inform Captain Piers that I found the boy," the man in black said, unceremoniously lowering himself into one of the wooden cabin chairs.

Fear washed over Hobbins' stomach. "No," he said, unable to stop himself.

The man in black smirked in the direction of the blond pirate. "Yes, that little family you met with proved to be quite helpful in that regard."

A muscle in Hobbins' face twitched as he realized the danger he had placed the Philips' in. He could only hope that no one was hurt during whatever interrogation the evil man had put them through.

"Wonderful, Master Lawrence," Commodore Burtenson beamed. "Where is he?"

Lawrence frowned and fiddled with the feather on his hat, "If I tell you, how am I guaranteed the reward from Piers?"

Burtenson rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, Lawrence, you're going to get your reward. Now give us the location. Some people actually have a country to be serving in a prompt and timely manner."

The man in black gave the Commodore a look that seemed to imply he would hold him to his word, and then turned with a grin to Hobbins. "The Cow Bell. Little armpit of an inn on the east end of town."

To his credit, Hobbins tried to look clueless when the name was uttered. _Tell them they've got the wrong place! _Part of his mind argued, while the other argued back, _No you imbecile, they'll never believe that…_

Burtenson interrupted his thoughts. "Master Lawrence, care to tell me why, if you know where the boy is, you did not bring him with you?"

The man in black actually looked a bit sheepish, and his hand seemed to move to his left temple almost subconsciously. "Er, well, I can't say I've had the best of experiences with children lately," he mumbled.

Despite his current inner panic, Hobbins had to smile at that. "What, did Roger club ye one, too?"

Lawrence stood up and kicked his chair violently at Master Hobbins. "Shuddup!"

Hobbins winced as the chair smacked into him, but that did not quell his chuckling.

"All I'm saying, Burtenson, is that you'd better send the better part of a military section over to get this kid," Lawrence said, growling over the sound of Master Hobbins' laughter. He coughed. "In my opinion, anyway," he added in a slightly more subdued, and perhaps even embarrassed, tone.

Burtenson considered him for a moment, pacing back and forth over the dark wood deck. "As extreme as it sounds, I agree with you Master Lawrence. No mistakes. We will send a dozen of our best. They will scout the scene, and collect the lad tonight."

Hobbins drooped his head. What hope did he have? _Other than a bloody parrot…_

Burtenson smirked at the pirate, and Hobbins noted with disgust the drop of sweat falling off his chin. "As soon as we have the boy, your time with us will be over, my foul-smelling friend. You and that Cotton man will get a chance to meet your infamous Turncoat Turner when we drop you overboard."

Hobbins felt himself choke a bit, but refused to show it.

Burtenson and Lawrence turned and left the cabin together, their footsteps echoing through the blond pirate's thoughts as he desperately, and futilely, tried to come up with a plan.

Outside, a pelican flew off quite moodily.

*****

Elizabeth shuffled back and forth across her cell, completely at a loss as to how to escape. She was floating in the middle of the Caribbean, likely miles from land, and locked in the brig of a heavily armed ex-pirate ship. Her only thoughts were to free herself and locate her son. If he had followed the directions she had left him with, and she was sure he had, Will was likely in the Caribbean already. _Master Hobbins is a good man, _she kept telling herself, _he'll keep Will safe until they find Jack. _

Part of her wondered why she had chosen Jack Sparrow as the guardian for her son. She had not had contact with the man since Will's birth, when she received a note of congratulations from him via her pirate contacts at one of their Blinky's meetings.

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_I am not entirely sure if congratulations are in order for bringing another William Turner into the world, but maybe we'll all get lucky and this will turn out instead to be a secret lovechild of Norrington. And yes, love, I know you have not actually shared the first name of the lad with your loyal subjects as of yet, but I feel safe in my assumption in that regard. After all, pirates are a rather unimaginative lot when it comes to naming things._

_In honesty, I do wish you both the best. Keep the tike away from rum until he comes to visit his Uncle Jack._

_Fondly, _

_CJS_

Elizabeth smiled faintly remembering the note, and shook her head at herself. _Who do I send Will to stay with? The man who wants to introduce him to rum…_

Deep down, Elizabeth knew Jack was the right person to look out for her son. Despite his dramatically long list of personality flaws, he was a good man. He had always had looked out for her and her son's father, even after…she grimaced, thinking back to the fateful day aboard the _Pearl_. _What kind of mother sends her son to stay with the man she once killed? By all outward logic, this is a bad decision. But I know Jack, and there is no way he would let any harm fall on Will. _She swallowed, mustering some confidence in her decision. For a moment, she felt a little bit better, and then another thought crept into her mind. _At least...Jack would not let anything happen to Will that HE considered harmful…_Somehow Elizabeth doubted that Jack Sparrow's definition of harmful would be the same as that of a concerned parent.

The Pirate King sighed in frustration and resumed her pacing. She trusted Jack. She trusted him more than any other pirate, and in situations like these, she trusted pirates more than people with less experience dealing with a high degree of danger. Ergo, Will was best placed with Jack Sparrow for protection.

Satisfied enough with her line of thought, Elizabeth settled on the wooden bench provided for her in her cell. If she could not be there to take care of Will, then she had no choice but to trust in Jack to look after him for her. She had had this discussion with herself a hundred times over through the past several years, but it had always been hypothetical. Now that it was real, Elizabeth did not like the sinking feeling in her stomach when she thought of Jack Sparrow giving her Will a pirate's-eye tour of the Caribbean.

_Better than him ending up with an East India Trading Company - eye tour of the Caribbean, though_.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a pelican flew up next to the porthole by her cell and looked like it was…peering in. She dropped the edge of her dirtied skirt she had been fiddling with in shock. The bird flew along in perfect synchrony with the speed of the vessel she was aboard. She cocked her head to one side to get a better view, and then gasped as something quite unexpected happened.

Elizabeth felt sure that she was delusional from dehydration. The pelican was suddenly gone – no, not gone – _morphing _into several crabs, which then scuttled through the porthole straight into her cell. _It can't be…_

"Calypso?" she asked, staring down at the trio of crabs and furrowing her eyebrows quizzically.

A crab snapped one claw shut twice in what could only be described as frustration before shimmering slightly and sucking the other two crabs toward it. Suddenly, the familiar form of Tia Dalma stood before Elizabeth, looking thoroughly upset.

"Humans and your restrictive language," the sea goddess said with her oddly emphasized syllables, her voice clearly demonstrating her annoyance. "Always forcing me to take dis form to speak to you. I do not like it!" she said, pointing a dark finger in Elizabeth's direction rather sharply.

Elizabeth blinked a couple of times, completely uncertain as to how to react to the sudden appearance of the Obay woman. However, she was not about to let the sea goddess assume control, so she stood up from the rickety wooden bench to look the dark-haired woman in the eye.

Calypso lowered her finger, perhaps surprised by Elizabeth's defiant stance, but did not lose any of the fire behind her eyes. "Your son is finally brought 'ome. Finally back where 'e belongs. Back to de seas."

The Pirate King finally found her voice at the mention of her son. "Will is here?" She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, home?"

Calypso gave a sly smile. "'E has come to me, like I knew 'e would." She twirled her finger through her hair momentarily, before the ice crept back into her voice. "But," she continued, her words dripping with anger, "Because of you, 'is very life is in serious danger."

Elizabeth's face blanched. She backed up, accidentally bumping into the damp cell bars behind her. "Danger?" she finally asked, the word coming out in a hoarse whisper. "Did they…did they find him?"

Calyspo sighed and looked at Elizabeth with an expression that almost seemed to be one of pity, though something else lurked beneath the surface of her gaze. "Yes. Yes, dey 'ave."

An indescribable sound escaped Elizabeth's throat. Her eyes were wide, but unable to water because of her dehydration. "No," she whispered. "No, they couldn't have…he was supposed to be safe. I made sure he would be safe!" Her voice grew thick and loud, a grief-stricken sob breaking through the end of her last sentence.

Calypso took the mortal woman by the shoulders and guided her back to the bench. They sat down together, the sea goddess keeping one arm wrapped around Elizabeth in an odd display of friendly comfort. "If you'd like, I can make sure dat 'e stays safe."

Elizabeth looked at her in surprise. "You – what? How? You can free him?" Elizabeth's eyes were desperate. "Free him, or free me and I'll free him."

"Yes, I can 'elp 'im," Calypso said, her voice suddenly carrying the sharp excitement it held all those years ago when a group of pirates stood in her swamp hut, wishing for a way to get their captain back. "But would you trust me? Would you trust 'im to me? To be put under my protection?"

The Pirate King felt herself hesitate. Something burned behind Calypso's eyes that she could not place. Something about this was not right. _But how else can you protect Will? _

"What about Jack?" Elizabeth found herself asking. "He was supposed to be protected by Jack. Did he ever find him? Is Jack captured as well?"

Calypso dropped her hands impatiently. "No, de boy did not find Jack. Now, you 'ave to act fast, before it is too late. I cannot say what time your son has left before…" she trailed off, looking meaningful at Elizabeth. "Do you trust 'im to me? D'ere is nothing you can do for 'im 'ere."

Elizabeth really did not like how fast this was happening, but what choice did she have? She paused for a brief moment, an ounce of suspicion creeping into her thoughts. "Wait. Why not free me as well? Why just my son?"

Calypso stood up abruptly, and spun towards the woman on the bench. "I am striking a bargain with you, Pirate King," she spat the last two words out, her eyes narrowed, their last shred of patience vanished. "Give de Prince to me, and I will make sure 'e does not get captured."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped slightly and she squinted at the sea goddess, her suspicions confirmed. "I thought you said they already captured Will?"

Calypso gave her a look that almost seemed to reflect approval. "I never said 'e was captured," the sea goddess said, not missing a beat. "I said dat dey _found _'im. 'E will be captured. Soon. Tonight."

She thought back for a moment. _That is true; she never did say what sort of danger he was in. But why is Calypso so desperate to help us? Something is very, very wrong here. What did she mean by Will coming home?_

"And where is Jack in all this?" Elizabeth asked. "And Master Hobbins?"

"Dat blond man is captured," Calypso said, waving her hand as if to shrug him off. "Jack is…" the sea goddess fluttered her eyelids shut and murmured something definitely not in English under her breath. Slowly, she opened her eyes once more, "Jack is on de _Pearl_. Sailing to…heading out on one of 'is unpredictable adventures."

"Heading to save Will?" Elizabeth asked shrewdly.

"Do you want your son saved or not?" Calypso asked, cocking her head to the side in impatience. "Give 'im to me. Place 'im under my protection, and you will not 'ave to worry about where Jack Sparrow is or what 'e is doing."

"What do you want with my son?" Elizabeth asked, a threat lingering under her words.

Calypso smiled coyly. "Now, why would you t'ink I wanted something?" she asked, her broken syllables continuing to punctuate her speech oddly.

Elizabeth stared at her. "Because if you didn't, you wouldn't be here wasting time asking for permission. I'm sure with your infinite powers, you can save a boy from kidnapping without the permission of his mother. You need my word, don't you? What are you planning to do with Will?"

"Is dat a refusal?" Calypso's eyes flashed, as she returned Elizabeth's inquiries with one of her own.

"Is that a confession?" Elizabeth countered back, arching her eyebrow.

Calypso shut her eyes. "So dis is it, den? You place your trust in a rum-soaked backstabbing pirate rather than an 'onorable, powerful, and beautiful goddess?" She opened her eyes towards the end of her question, and gave Elizabeth a hard glare.

A drop of water dripped between them from the deck above. "I trust in Jack," Elizabeth answered coolly. "And in my son. He is not captured. He will not be captured."

"But you do not trust me?" Calypso asked in clarification. "When 'ave I ever brought 'arm to d'ose you care about?"

_She can't be serious. _

Elizabeth answered in one word: "Maelstrom."

Calypso fidgeted slightly. "That was de only way to keep de two fleets from clashing all at once."

"Oh, like hell it was," Elizabeth said, "Nothing at all to do with personal vengeance on certain pirate lords, or evil undead captains. Speaking of, that's another one. Davy Jones. You unleashed him upon the world. Don't try for a second to argue that the deaths he caused weren't your fault," Elizabeth could feel herself choking up.

Calypso looked genuinely pained, a fury gathering behind her features. "Do not mention 'im."

Elizabeth crossed her arms and stood up. "I've seen what you do to mortals that come under your trust and protection. Did you really think I would hand my son over to you so easily? Either free me and bring me to him, or go back to your plotting as a jellyfish."

Calypso looked like she was about to reply, when suddenly a deep voice boomed from the stairs to the deck. "Hey! Who's down there?"

Elizabeth turned at the sound of the shout, and jumped when footsteps began descending the stairs. Spinning back to face the goddess, she barely saw the tip of a crab leg disappearing out the gaping porthole.

"Anyone down here?" the large guard asked, tromping over to Elizabeth's cell suspiciously.

Elizabeth sighed and sat back down on the bench. "No. Just me and the crustaceans."

*****

Captain Jack Sparrow and his crew anchored the _Black Pearl _on the opposite side of the island of Tortuga from the main port, in a tiny cove that only a handful of seasoned smugglers even knew existed.

Leaving three members aboard to guard the vessel and ready it for their eventual departure, the captain took the remaining dozen of his crew in two long boats to the sandy shore. The last rays of sunlight were just settling below the horizon as the stars took over the sky. Glancing up at them once, Jack Sparrow motioned for his crew to follow him into the forest of palm trees which would lead to the far end of town. A curse sounded out as Marty stepped in a small stream, causing him to demand Murtogg to lower the torch slightly for him.

***

On the opposite side of the island, Commodore Burtenson dispatched a dozen soldiers into town. They began marching in formation toward the Cow Bell, parting crowds as they went.

***

Jack narrowed his eyes and motioned for his crew to crouch low when they reached the outskirts of town.

"Cap'n," Gibbs whispered. "What be the plan?"

Jack raised his hands in front of his chest and pointing with them in towards town. "Well," he started. "We go in, blend into the street scene, and wait outside the Cow Bell. You go into the inn, gather up Prince what's-his-name, and meet us out front, where we will all casually go on our way. Simple as pie, mate." He smiled, clapping Gibbs on the shoulder and ushering him forward.

Gibbs nodded, "Right then," he said, looking pleased with Jack's explanation. He began moving forward until something seemed to dawn on him. "Uh, Cap'n," he said, turning around with a dash of concern in his old eyes. "If I'm just goin' to head on in to pick up the lad, why did we bring most the crew?"

Jack spread his hands wide and he grinned. "Why, to keep you company of course!"

Gibbs nodded with a silent, "Ah," and turned around again to head into town. After a few steps, however, he paused again and turned back to make sure the others were still following. Everyone was – warily. Jack gave Gibbs a small wave of reassurance from several yards behind him. It was obvious none of the pirates were very interested in infiltrating Port Beckett.

Gibbs slumped his shoulders. "Well come on," the pirate said, nervously motioning them to hurry up. "You know as well's I do that a pirate caught alone in Port Beckett's got no fate left but the noose."

Mullroy and Murtogg exchanged worried glances, then each peered cautiously in opposite directions around the corner of the town they had stopped at.

"No worries, mate, we're right behind you," Jack said, continuing to usher him forwards. "So…go on then. Keep moving. We've got a prince to rescue."

"Right, of course," Gibbs said, his tone a tad embarrassed. He resumed making his way through the darkened town streets. "Now, remind me again what the lad looks like? Don't want to be grabbin' the wrong kid."

Jack shrugged from behind Gibbs. "My guess is he'll look annoying as hell, knowing his family tree. Look for the kid with the stick up his behind, if he's anything like his father. If he's more like his mother, you'll want to look for a little girl instead, because he's probably taken to cross-dressing."

Gibbs turned and stared at his captain for a moment. Before he had a chance to comment, Jack reached forward and pulled him to a halt. "We're here."

They had made it into town without any issues thus far, and found themselves on a sandy street, fairly crowded for the time of night. Down the street from them, lamplight bounced off a wooden sign with the words "Cow Bell" etched into it.

The group paused to collect themselves, and then began milling in along the townspeople on the dusky streets. Jack gave a brief nod to Gibbs. "Looks like it's time for you to head in, mate."

Gibbs gave his captain a nod, his mouth pulled up in a reassuring half-grin.

***

Twelve soldiers marched up the same street from the opposite direction, until they received the signal to halt.

"Alright men," their commanding officer said, spying the sign for the Cow Bell. "Looks like it is time for us to head in."

The soldiers saluted in response.

***

The mistress of the Cow Bell looked up in surprise. It had been a while since so many visitors had come graced their inn at once, especially the kind who wore the colors of the crown.

"Hello, sirs," she said, smiling. "What can I do for you this evening?"


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here we go! Exciting chapter for you all. I'm actually kind of nervous about posting this one, because it is pretty crucial. Hope people think it works!**

** Queenofspades: Haha, I was tempted to use that little blip you replied with as the story intro. But alas, things had to play out a bit differently.  
**

** AmmNIwriter: Hope this new chapter makes you smile, too!**

** Nytd: Thanks again for giving me the correct spelling of "Obeah". You have no idea how much it was bothering me to not know how to spell that!  
**

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Chapter 8

William Weatherby Turner was dreaming about his mother.

It was a bittersweet dream, because somewhere in the back of his mind, Will knew a dream was all it could be. She held him in her arms, sitting on a kitchen chair back at their home in Port Gullington. Aunt Martha's oat bread was rising in the oven, and Will was telling his mother how good it smelled. She smiled down at him, ruffling his hair and telling him to be patient. He sighed and leaned back into her arms. Her hand was on his shoulder then, but when he looked up, it was Master Hobbins, and they were on the deck of the _Merry Maid_. Master Hobbins shook his shoulder and called his name. Will tried to respond, but his mouth could not open. He tried to respond again, panic rising. His mouth was glued shut. He struggled, shaking back and forth, but Master Hobbins' grip on his shoulder just got tighter.

Will's eyes snapped open in fear.

"_Shhh_," a gravelly voice said. "It's okay, lad. I'm sorry to scare you, but you need to come with me."

He was awake. He was awake and terrified. Will realized that the strange man's hand was covering his mouth the moment he tried to scream for help.

"None of that now, boy," the man said, heaving the seven year-old up out of bed. "We have to get you out of here. Quick-like."

Will struggled against the large man, slapping at his dirty clothes and kicking into his gut.

"_Mrmmm-mmm-mmm-mrmmmmmm!_" Will screamed through the thick fingers of the kidnapping stranger.

"Ow, ow!" the man said, trying to block Will's blows to his stomach. "Will yeh calm down, lad! I'm a – "

The door burst open and several British soldiers flooded the room, guns leveled at the smelly intruder.

_I'm saved! _Will thought, relief washing over him.

" – Friend," the man finished lamely, clutching onto Will even tighter than before.

"Drop the boy," the commanding officer spoke, taking a menacing half step forward.

_Oh, thank you, thank you! _Will could feel tears welling up in gratitude.

The kidnapper stared at them, at first seeming uncertain. One glance over his shoulder, though, and he seemed to have reached a decision. "Sorry, don't think I can do that, lads." He began slowly backing up toward the open window.

_No! _Will looked at the window in fear, noticing the rope dangling down out it. _Must be how he got in, _some non-petrified part of Will's mind managed to realize.

"Drop him, pirate," the officer said, stepping forward again. "Now. Or so help me, I will shoot you."

_Pirate?! _Will's already panicked brain went into overdrive. _I'm being kidnapped by a pirate?! Oh, Mum isn't going to like this at all…_

"_Mmmmlrm!_" he tried to scream again.

"Quiet, kid!" the pirate hissed at him. "I'm here to help you!"

Will's mind reeled. _What?! _

"I will count to five," the officer said, cocking his gun. "One. Two."

_Help me? But you're a pirate! Pirates don't help, they hurt! Soldiers help! Soldiers…_

The warning from Master Hobbins suddenly popped up in Will's memory.

"_Soldiers?!" Master Hobbins had said in shock. "I need to make somefin' perfectly clear, boy. Never, under any circumstances, go to a soldier for help. Ye are not to talk to soldiers, nor to officers. Don't even look at 'em. Stay away from any members of the Royal Navy, at all costs. Do ye understand, lad?"_

"Three."

Will stopped struggling with his captor, indecision coursing through him. _But if I can't trust soldiers, then…_There was a sudden bump, interrupting Will's thoughts. The pair had apparently reached the windowsill.

"Four."

"Wait!" the pirate shouted, desperately, glancing out the window and seeming to realize he would never get out in time. "Hold on, let's be reasonable!"

"Five."

A gunshot rang out. Will winced automatically, but soon found that he was not falling to the ground. The pirate holding him remained standing, looking as shocked as Will felt. From outside the room, they heard the muffled sound of a body crumpling down the staircase. Screams let out from the bar beneath them.

"What in the name of – " the naval officer began, turning to face his soldiers.

Suddenly, more gunshots. Soldiers fell left and right, and shouts of battle could be heard through the dust and smoke. Will did not have much of a chance to absorb the horrifically shocking situation, however, as he soon felt himself being hoisted over the pirate's shoulders and shuffled towards the window.

"Hold on, kid!" the man shouted, swinging one leg over the windowsill and grabbing onto the rope. "This is our cue to leave!"

While his mind was filled with terror and confusion, one thing Will knew with definite clarity was that holding on was a _really _good idea. The pair dropped through the night air, Will's small fists curled tight in the man's stained vest. Below them, Will could just peer over to see the street filling with screaming bar-goers, racing out of the inn for safety. Above he could still hear the sound of guns firing and metal clashing. He doubted there was ever a time he had felt more terrified.

They slid down the rope quickly. Will could feel the blood rushing to his head and closed his eyes tight as the ground neared at an alarming speed.

_Thud_.

His captor staggered back for a moment upon landing, and did his best to cling onto the child draped over his right shoulder. Will realized that this was a perfect opportunity for escape, and began kicking and slapping all over again.

"Oh, for the love of Pete!" the pirate exclaimed, heaving the boy back in front of him and clasping both wrists in one tight fist. "I'm a friend! Gibbs! Mister Gibbs! Didn't your mother ever tell you about me?" he asked between huffed breaths as he ran down the streets of Port Beckett with Will in a firm grasp.

"No, she did not!" Will yelled, finally finding his voice and realizing there was no hand over his mouth anymore. "Heeeeeeeeeelp!" he started to wail just before the thick, dirty hand got slapped back over his face.

"Jack was right," the man (_Gibbs? _Will tried to think of what he called himself) said in exasperation. They reached a building near the edge of town, and the pirate stopped behind it to catch his breath. "Annoying as hell."

Will's ears perked up at that. _Jack? Could he mean Captain Jack Sparrow? _He felt puzzled. _But, why would a pirate know Captain Jack Sparrow? Maybe he means a different Jack. Though, he did say he knew my mother, and Captain Jack Sparrow must know my mum, too, so maybe they DO know each other…William the Great must use his expert powers of deduction to learn more._

The gunshots were getting closer, and the pirate man started running again, heading out of town and into the trees. Will's eyes widened in surprise as he noticed other figures running alongside them.

_More pirates! _ he realized in a shock. The figures to their right kept turning around to fire their pistols, and then spinning back forward and ducking as shots were returned their way. The pirate holding Will ducked and swerved frequently as well.

Bouncing along, young William Turner had a difficult time keeping track of who all was racing with them, but there appeared to be about four…_no, five…_

_BANG!_

_No…four…_Will realized in horror, as one of the pirates fell to the ground. His captor stumbled to a stop and turned to his fallen comrade.

"Henderson's down!" he shouted, looking about for aid.

Will's stomach lurched violently at the sight in front of them. There lay a young man, his face glued in shock. A pool of blood was seeping through his dirty white shirt, the exit wound of the gunshot horrifically wide across his chest.

"Yeah, and he's not gettin' back up," a new voice said.

Will looked up to see yet another strange pirate, this one sporting long black hair and tri-cornered hat. The new pirate paused upon noticing the boy. His dark, charcoal-lined eyes looked straight into Will's, his gaze intense and calculating. Will swallowed behind his captor's hand.

"Cap'n, orders?" his kidnapper asked the man.

_Captain? _That made the stranger even scarier than before.

A corner of the black-haired pirate's mouth twitched to the side and he broke eye contact with Will to glance down at their fallen companion. A shot fired past them at that point, causing both pirates to duck and run forward again.

"Keep to the code, Gibbs," the pirate captain said. "You know that."

"Yes, sir," Will's kidnapper nodded, as they sped off into the trees.

"Douse the torch!" the captain shouted at a tall man running ahead of them.

The man dropped the torch to the ground, stomping it into some sand. The light went out, and darkness enveloped the fleeing group.

Will felt tears streaming down his face. More than ever he wanted to be safe in his mother's arms. Or even with Master Hobbins. Someone. Anyone other than these terrifying men carting him away at the present moment. _William the Great has been captured by the enemy. How will he make his daring escape, the world anxiously wonders? _Another tear dripped silently down Will's nose. _I wonder that, too. _

Palm branches collided into the pair and the kidnapper swore. Momentarily releasing his grip on Will's mouth, he smacked the leaves to the side, still cursing about how "running in the dark was always, and would always be bad luck".

Will thought about yelling for help, but frankly he was too scared that would mean their pursuers would start shooting at them again, and might hit him by accident. The soldiers certainly did not seem like they were trying that hard to make sure he was not shot. _Some rescue, _Will thought to himself, angrily. _Maybe Master Hobbins was right about soldiers. They are useless after all. _

They continued to race through the dark until the rag-tag group came across a clearing, which Will quickly realized was actually a beach. They were at shore.

"Into the long boats!" the smelly pirate holding onto him whispered loudly, immediately dashing over to the first of the two vessels.

"I'm not takin' the left side again, you know my shoulder's bad," a slightly chubby pirate said to his skinner friend as the pair climbed into their boat.

"Oh alright, I'll row on the left, give me the oar," the other man responded.

"You don't have to trade oars for which side you row on, honestly," the first man said, clinging to his paddle as the pair switched seats.

"Yes you do!" the skinner man argued back, sitting down on his new side. "Due to the slight angulation of the oar's head, one oar is specifically designed for the right, and the other for the left."

"No, see, you can just turn it over, it will be the same."

"No, it won't, see? Now mine is all twisted funny."

"Well of course it is, because now you have it backwards."

"This wouldn't have happened if you had just given me your oar in the first place."

"Oh, will you two stuff it and start rowin'?!" Will's captor asked in frustration.

They boat began drifting off into the night, and Will fearfully thought for a moment that the soldiers had lost their trail. But then, shouts could be heard from the beach behind them, and Will twisted in the pirate's grip so that he could see what was going on.

Standing on the banks were four soldiers, each reloading their guns and screaming for the pirates to turn around "immediately".

Will began fighting again. This was his last chance, before…he gasped as the long boats rounded a rocky bend. In front of them was a dark ship, its sails being lowered in front of his eyes.

"Oi!" the captain yelled towards the pirates on board the vessel. "Hurry it up, will you?"

His demand was punctuated by new gunshots from the shore. The captain staggered in surprise, causing his long boat to rock awkwardly in the water.

Will squealed in fear as the shots rang out all around him. The smelly pirate pushed him to the bottom of the boat, holding him there. "You - stay down," he ordered sharply. He looked up at the frightened oarsmen on the seat in front of them. "And you two - row, dammit! Row like yer being chased by yer bonny lass's father!"

None of them needed to be told twice. The boat began sliding through the water at an incredibly fast pace, and Will rolled himself into a fetal position in the damp boat bottom. He shut his eyes and wished for it all to be over.

Time stretched on into infinity.

Darkness.

Gunpowder.

Waves.

Shouts.

And then silence. The soldiers had given up.

Tears were falling again, and Will shivered as water was continuously splashed onto his little body from the frantic rowing. _William the Great was…_he began, in an attempt to calm himself down. _William the Great is…is not afraid. He is not wet. He is not kidnapped. He is just fine. He is…_Will shook out a sob. _William the Great is not so Great. William is nothing more than a pathetic little boy. If only he was a grown-up. If only he had a sword…_Will gasped, his eyes flying open.

_My dagger! How could I be so STUPID?! _

Cautiously, he felt down his side for his belt. Relief bubbled up inside him as the hilt made contact with his fingertips.

_Should I use it now? _Will debated with himself. He could save it as a surprise for later…but then there was the risk of someone discovering it between now and then. And there was also the matter of 'later' being on board a pirate ship out at sea, rather than a long boat near an island.

Now, then. He would use it now. He gulped. The thought of actually threatening another person with a dagger made Will's stomach flip uncomfortably. _But what choice do I have? William the Great would do it. _

With those thoughts in mind, Will pulled himself together, grabbed the dagger from its sheath, and bolted upright. The boy lunged forward, diving around the smelly pirate who captured him earlier. He climbed onto his back like a monkey and pressed the dagger to his throat. The man made a sound of surprise.

"Let me go!" Will said, in what he hoped was a threatening tone. "Take me back!"

"Whoa, there, kid," the pirate said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Take it easy, now."

The remaining pirates in the boat stared in shock at the pair.

"Turn the boat around, and take me back, or…or…" Will's eyes darted back and forth, nervously. His hand shook badly, forcing him to inch a little farther away from the man's neck so it wouldn't start nicking him.

Before he could finish his demands, the boat was bumped from behind, and Will turned to see the other long boat sidling up next to them. Suddenly, Will felt something circular and cold against the back of his head, and heard the sound of a pistol being cocked.

"Put down the knife, lad," a voice said, which Will recognized in an instant to belong to the captain.

Will was terrified. However, his fear was not as strong as his determination to escape, and so he held the dagger more tightly. "No. You won't shoot me," his voice held steady. "You want me alive, or else you wouldn't have kidnapped me. Let me go, or I will kill this man."

He could hear the captain sigh behind him. "Listen, son, we didn't kidnap you. Obviously Gibbs here did a pretty inadequate job of explaining the situation to you."

Will could see his kidnapper's cheeks color out the corner of his eye.

"I tried, Cap'n, but the boy wouldn't listen to me!"

Will frowned. "Of course I wasn't going to listen to you! You're a _pirate! _I'd have to be pretty stupid to believe a pirate's word over a soldier's."

"Oh God, not again," the captain said behind him. "Gibbs, please say I don't have to do this again. One Will Turner was enough to last me a lifetime. Or rather, two lifetimes."

"Sorry, sir," the man said, his voice unsteady due to the blade shaking near his larynx.

Will's mind raced. "What…what do you mean…_one _Will Turner was enough?"

"Like I was tryin' to explain, kid, we're friends!" the man called Gibbs said. "Friends of your parents!"

Will could just hear the captain mumbling behind them, "Speak for yourself, mate."

Will decided he did not like the captain very much.

"We were rescuin' you," the pirate continued to explain. Will began to drop the dagger from his throat without realizing it. "The soldiers, they were the ones wantin' to kidnap you. We were there to make sure that didn't happen!"

Will fell silent, processing this new information. They could be lying, of course. But they did know his name. And they had not hurt him at all. _And Master Hobbins was pretty strict about not trusting soldiers…_Somewhere in the back of his mind, another memory surfaced.

_"Will, this may sound strange, but I need to ask you something," _his mother had said, about two years prior. _"Have any soldiers ever approached you when you were out with your aunt or cousins?"_

_"Soldiers? No, Mum. Why?"_

She had seemed relieved, Will remembered. _"Just…checking. Let me know if any ever do."_

_"Okay, Mum. But, why?"_

_"Because, Will. Just because. Don't worry so much about the why. We talked about this. Sometimes you just have to trust me."_

Will let the hand holding the dagger fall all the way to his side, and he slid off the pirate's back. "How do you know my parents?" he asked, sitting down next to the man, and turning part way around to also address the captain, who had long since lowered his pistol.

The captain's eyes were distant momentarily, until he remembered himself and turned his expression into a friendlier one. "Will and Elizabeth? We all go way back."

Will gasped. He knew his mum's name, too! _Maybe they really are who they say they are. But…why in the world would my parents have a bunch of rowdy pirates for friends? _

The captain slid his pistol back into his belt and gave Will a salute as his long boat pulled ahead. Will noticed that all eyes were looking forward and up, and he turned instinctively. They had arrived at the ship.

Ropes were being tossed down and slung around the long boats. Will watched the process in interest, until the pirate man nudged him to stand up, handing him one of the lines.

"Can yeh climb, kid?" he asked, offering his hands as a way of hoisting the boy up.

Will sheathed his dagger and clutched the rope. He nodded, still not trusting himself to say much at all. There was just too much swirling about in the child's mind to bother formulating more words.

He shimmied up the rope, and soon found himself on the deck of the mysterious ship. The pirate named Gibbs followed him, and Will could tell the man instantly felt more at ease as soon as his feet had hit the deck.

The captain climbed up farther down the ship, and immediately began barking orders. "Full canvas! Lamps out! Steer her straight out until we get this damned island well behind us!"

"Aye aye, Cap'n!" Will heard several men shout, as the ship quickly filled up with its crew.

Will sat himself down on a crate near the stairs. It appeared he had been temporarily forgotten by the pirate crew.

At least, so he had thought, until the captain walked over towards him. He had a very funny way of walking, Will noticed. He wondered if the captain had been drinking. _He certainly smells like he has been, _Will thought, crinkling his nose at the dark-haired man who had just taken a seat on the crate next to Will's.

"So." The captain stared at Will. "You're it then, eh?"

Will felt puzzled. "I'm…what?" he managed to ask, despite the inner war raging inside him. These people may be friends of his parents, but there was something about the captain that Will really did not like. Still, he figured he owed it to the man to speak to him, if he had in fact been part of a rescue mission for him.

The captain seemed to ignore his question completely. "Tell me, William. Ever have any thoughts of mutiny?"

Will shook his head slowly, not sure what the captain was getting at.

"Ever declared war on an innocent stockpile of rum?"

He shook his head again. _The captain is really…strange._

"Never fed anyone to the Kraken, either, eh?"

"No," Will said, confused. "Mum said the Kraken died a long time ago."

The captain cracked a grin. "And she is absolutely right about that, mate. That Beastie is long gone." His eyes twinkled happily, and despite his initial dislike for the man, something about his smile made Will feel oddly safe.

"Anyhow. It's about time I made a proper introduction," the captain said. He took his hat off, held it over his heart, and gave a seated version of a bow towards Will. "I'm the one and only Captain Jack Sparrow."

Will gasped.

"Heard of me, have you?" the captain smiled even larger and set his hat back atop his head. "Of course you have. I'm sure your mother must talk about me all the time. Probably with a dreamy look in her misleadingly sweet and gentle eyes, eh, mate?" He winked and nudged Will in the ribs a bit.

The words went in one ear and out the other. _Captain…Jack Sparrow…is a pirate?_

"You…you're Captain Sparrow?" Will asked, mouth hanging open.

The captain spread his arms wide. "At your service, little Turner."

"But Mum…Mum said I was supposed to trust you. She told me to come to you if anything ever happened!" Will tried to process this. "But you're…a pirate!"

The captain's face became more serious. "William, where is your mother?"

Will looked up at the man and saw real concern in his eyes. Maybe it had been too early to decide to hate him. "Gone," he said, and suddenly found himself sobbing. An awkward moment passed between them. Then, surprisingly, the captain's arms were wrapped around him, rocking him in time to the roll of the waves under the ship.


End file.
